Double Life
by sonny's girlfriend
Summary: Post HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore’s portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble. Rating has been raised!
1. A Series of Unexpected Revelations

**Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.**

**Disclaimer: I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A Series of Unexpected Revelations**

Hermione Granger lay staring into the darkness. As of now it was two in the morning, and her brain was _still _on overdrive. She blamed it on a comment Harry made three days ago, at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

They (herself, Harry, and Ron) had been discussing the horcruxes, both the magic associated with them, and how best to destroy them. Harry had been recounting everything he'd learned in the pensieve about Slytherin's ring, since it could help. But he knew precious little.

What he did know was that Dumbledore's hand had apparently been burnt black by a curse put on the ring, which had been triggered when he destroyed the horcrux. Dumbledore had said that the curse was so strong he'd been forced to rush back to Hogwarts to be healed, and if it hadn't been for his own magical prowess and Snape's help, he would've died that day.

Everyone had paused when Harry mentioned Snape. It had been a strange moment, for Harry looked as though he wished he could literally swallow his words. Hermione fancied he would prefer raising a brood of blast ended screwts single handedly to giving Snape credit for doing _anything_ good.

The conversation had moved on to the wedding after that, and while she felt certain the others had banished Harry's words, Hermione had put them away to think on at a later time.

_Why,_ she couldn't help wondering, _if Dumbledore was at death's door, didn't Snape tip him over the edge?_ It would've been easy. He could've claimed there wasn't time to help him, that there was nothing he could do...

Of course, she had thought it through and knew there could be many reasons. Perhaps others had been present? Another member of the Order? Even then though, if Dumbledore was about to die…how would they _know_ Snape hadn't done everything in his power to help? Unless they were adept at potion making themselves. But that would rule out the other professors. So…who else could've been there? Right now, the only two people she knew were there for certain were dead and…unavailable.

So _this_ was why Hermione was wide awake, pondering another night away. Deep down, she couldn't help thinking that, up until the horrible attack on Dumbledore, Snape had never behaved like a traitor. She knew it was almost ludicrous to be pondering this, when he'd, he'd…well. Killed Dumbledore.

She certainly _couldn't_ mention her thoughts to the others, and they were too muddled right now in any case. She wasn't sure what was even bothering her, but it just seemed like…everything was off. They were all missing something big.

There were other things that bothered her. Dumbledore had supposedly had an _iron clad reason_ for trusting Snape, according to McGonagall, and Hermione couldn't help thinking that the reason Harry had told them that night was _hardly_ "iron clad". Actually, it didn't even make _sense_, as Lupin had commented, when Snape had hated Harry's father so strongly. Also, Hermione knew Harry did tend to jump to conclusions, especially when it concerned Snape.

When it came down to it, Dumbledore may have believed in second chances, but he was one of the smartest people in the wizardizing community! Surely there was another _better_ reason he had trusted Snape. Also, he knew Snape was very good at legilimency. He _had_ to be if he could act as a spy for either side, since both leaders, Dumbledore and Voldemort, were excellent at it themselves. So…if _anything_ Snape said could be a lie, surely he had actually _done_ something that proved his allegiance to Dumbledore.

So _then_ the question was, what could he have done to convince Dumbledore he was on his side, yet still allow Snape to betray him later on… _Augh! I'm going around in circles! If only I could have Snape to myself, tied up and pumped full of veritaserum for a few hours, I'd get all the answers I could ever want…wait_.

Hermione sat up in bed. _Wait_. She couldn't interrogate Snape, but what was stopping her from asking Dumbledore? Or, more specifically, his _portrait_, which had just recently joined the others headmasters' portraits at Hogwarts!

She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and let her feet touch the floor. She'd go right now. She was currently staying at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, so apparating to Hogwarts wouldn't be a problem. _ I'll just nip over to Harry's room and borrow his invisibility cloak._ That way, she wouldn't have to risk being seen by deatheaters…or anyone else, for that matter. _And_ she wouldn't have to explain herself to everyone until after she'd gathered a few more facts…

Hermione was nearly out the front door when a thought occurred to her. How was she going to get back? She wasn't the secret keeper, and wouldn't be able to return without a written note of the address…

_ Oh well. I'll be able to catch a member of the order tomorrow morning. I'll go to Hogwarts' library after seeing the portrait, and they'll think I came early to do research_. With that thought, she left the house and apparated away.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione was outside the headmistress's office, pacing in small, fast circles. She was fuming. She'd been there for over half an hour, trying every password she could think of, and was finally beginning to wonder whether Minerva McGonagall had decided to scrap Dumbledore's habit of choosing names of various candies as passwords. _Argh! What would she choose? _She paused and started guessing again, with a different theme in mind this time.

"Dumbledore."

"The Order will triumph."

"Good will prevail."

"Die Voldemort die?" Okay, that was stupid. Alright, they were all stupid!

"Go go Power Rangers!" Eh. Her little sister loved that show a few years back. Why not? It was three in the morning, and she was _going crazy_!

"Open Sesame! Alohomora! I hate passwords!" She paused for a moment. _Ugh. I can't _not_ get in. That would make this entire trip pointless!_

"We will prevail."

"Dumbledore will not be forgotten."

"Dumbledore's Army wil…" She stopped suddenly as the gargoyle sprang out of the way. _Dumbledore's Army_! Well, that made sense, she supposed. Ha. She wouldn't be forgetting _that_ anytime soon.

At long last she was in the office, and after looking around for a moment she spotted the much sought after portrait. As was expected, he was asleep, with a long droopy nightcap on his head.

"Headmaster? Professor Dumbledore, sir?" She whispered it, not wanting to wake up all the other portraits in the room. When he didn't respond, she moved as close as she dared (which was apparently about a foot away) and spoke again.

His eyes opened this time, and she was struck by his tell tale twinkle, firmly in place, and couldn't help but feel that he had known she was there, and had already been awake.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir, but…"

"That's quite alright, Miss Granger. Actually, I had a hunch you might drop by to see me one of these nights. Is there…something on your mind?" She was quite eager to begin asking questions, so was overjoyed when Dumbledore, in his oddly omniscient fashion, had cut right to the chase.

"Well, _yes_. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened the night you destroyed the horcrux in Slytherin's ring? Harry says…Harry says it nearly killed you." She had paused at the strangeness of that sentence, since Dumbledore was in fact dead, and this portrait was merely an imprint of him.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Inquisitive as ever, I see." He raised his eyebrows, and added "Oh no, it's _quite_ alright, my dear." When she started to apologize. "So you would like to learn more about the horcruxes? I shall certainly assist."

"As a matter of fact, I did come _quite_ close to dying that night. In order to destroy the horcrux, you see, I had to destroy the _ring_, which had a very powerful curse placed on it by Slytherin himself. He charmed it so that anyone not of Slytherin descent who wore the ring would weaken over time, and eventually die. Of course, they could always take the ring off. But in _addition_ to that curse, Voldemort added one of his own, which worked in such a way as to force any person stealing the ring to immediately put it on, and upon doing so, it would prove _impossible_ to remove, thus ensuring the thief's eventual death."

"So, even after destroying the horcrux, were the two curses still in effect?"

"Partially. Thanks to Professor Snape, its weakening effects could be kept at bay almost indefinitely. Indeed, we even managed to remove the ring later on. Yet even separated from it, however, I was still weakening over time, due to the powerful link Voldemort's curse created between myself and the ring. It was taking much longer than intended, but in a few years time, my dear, I would have succumbed to the curse."

Hermione frowned, digesting this information. So, he would've died anyway, just a little later on. Still, he could've done a _lot_ of good in a few years.

"Was…was your hand hurt by Slytherin's curse, then, Headmaster? Or was it Voldemort's?"

Dumbledore smiled. "The title of Headmaster is no longer mine, Miss Granger. Please call me Professor, although Albus would be fine too." His twinkle increased at that, and Hermine caught the gist that he was having a quiet laugh at her expense, since he _must've_ known that she would never feel comfortable using his first name. "But to answer your questions, it was a combination of both. Aside from the long term draining effect the ring would have when worn by a non-heir, Slytherin also put a _warning_ curse on it that would trigger when you initially put on the ring. Now, this curse was strengthened over time by various heirs, making it _much_ more deadly, and I have no doubt Voldemort added his own final touches to it. But yes, _that_ would've done me in that very night if it hadn't, again, been for Severus' help."

Hermione swallowed. This _was_ the perfect opportunity…"Sir, that's what I really wanted to ask you about. That is, well…_why_ didn't Snape, er, why did he help you if…"

"If he was a traitor?"

Hermione blinked a few times in surprise. "Well…_yes_, exactly." She paused. "Perhaps there was there someone else there that night watching Snape; a member of the Order….?"

"Actually, we were _quite_ alone. At least for the first hour. He did, in fact, have _ample_ time to kill me. And had an excellent alibi too, if I might add." Dumbledore's smile held a hint of mischief.

"But…_why_? Why didn't he…" Hermione stopped, trying to think. What was she missing? Surely Dumbledore knew better then _anyone_ why this didn't make sense.

"The answer is simple, really." She looked up to see Dumbledore looking quite pleased. "I really _must_ commend you for you remarkable intellect. You are a true asset to the wizardizing community, Miss Granger." Hermione smiled awkwardly, looking down at the ground. But her brow was still furrowed, waiting to hear what he had left to say. He didn't continue speaking, however, and after a moment she looked up to see why he had stopped. He looked rather more serious, and while still possessing his twinkle, she knew what he said next was going to be important.

"I'm…afraid I must ask for your absolute secrecy on what I'm about to tell you. Even Harry, _especially_ Harry, must not know. If you do not think you can do this, then I must ask you to draw your own conclusions." He waited.

"I promise, Professor. I can keep a secret." She paused, thinking that sounded childish. "I won't tell another soul, not even Harry or Ron." Her curiosity was killing her, and there was no way, _really_, she wouldn't stay to hear Dumbledore out.

"Very well. As you have guessed from our conversation, and were no doubt unwilling to voice, since it most certainly had to be impossible, is the simple fact that Severus Snape is _not_ a traitor."

Hermione did a double take, eyes wide. "But, but _how_, when he…?" She stopped, not willing to voice it out loud.

"I will explain. My death was planned from before the beginning of the school year." Hermione opened her mouth to speak, feeling overwhelmed, then slowly closed it again. What did you say to _that_? And yet at the same time, somewhere in her head it made sense, if he had _already been dying_…

"Let me explain. Through an unfortunate set of circumstances, Severus had made an unbreakable vow. As you know, young Mr. Malfoy's year long goal was to kill me, and upon failing that task, Voldemort would kill _him_. In order to save her son, Narcissa Malfoy beseeched Severus Snape for help. Her sister came along, and as you may know, three people are needed for the taking of an unbreakable vow; one stating the conditions, one agreeing to them, and one working the magic between the two. Although Severus had been welcomed back into the fold, so to speak, Voldemort still didn't trust him completely, and Bellatrix Lestrange along with many others, correctly thought him to be a spy at the time.

So with Peter Pettigrew listening upstairs, and two loyal deatheaters downstairs, Severus was, unfortunately, not in a position to refuse Narcissa's request. Therefore he made a gamble, hoping that she wouldn't make him promise anything too drastic. As it turned out, the first two promises of the vow were harmless enough, but the third left very little room for interpretation:

If Draco were to fail in his task, Severus, in his _stead_, was to finish it _for_ him. So as you can see, Miss Granger, Severus had promised, under pain of death, to kill me, or see me dead." He paused for a moment, then went on.

"Even so, when he told me of his folly, he was willing to die in my stead, and indeed, later in the school year he attempted to go against the agreement we made that day. But I immediately saw that this unfortunate mistake could be turned to the Order's advantage quite effectively. And in any case, Severus would be more useful alive, by the end of the school year, than _I_ would."

"But sir, you were the _leader_ of the Order of…"

"Yes, of course. But I was already weakening, and I knew I would have most of the school year to prepare others to take up where I would leave off. And besides, my death did several important things. It has placed Severus, unless I am terribly mistaken, firmly inside Voldemort's inner circle, where his work as a spy will be invaluable to the Order."

Also, my death has served as a note of warning to the entire wizardizing community. If Voldemort's deatheaters can penetrate into the heart of Hogwarts and strike down the man who, if you will forgive my lack of humility, was known to be the only person Voldemort ever _feared_, surely it is time for everyone to ban together and fight the war against him wholeheartedly. For, even after the debacle at the ministry last year, there were still people who would not accept the truth of Dark Lord's return."

I also regret to say that I had been made into an _enemy_ of the Ministry by the press and by the actions taken by the previous, and to some extent, present minister. This served to divert their attention to me, instead of focusing on the true threat. Now that I am gone, and was clearly never the threat to begin with, they will focus their energy more fully on where it needs to be at this time, on _Voldemort_."

He fell silent, letting Hermione mull over everything he'd just said. It all made perfect sense, and little things she'd noticed and hadn't understood throughout the school year were suddenly clicking into place. But even _so_…

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, couldn't Snape _still_ be a traitor? Couldn't he have…have _planned_ to take the unbreakable vow? Harry said the reason you trusted Snape was because he felt horrible for bringing Voldemort down on his parents, but Lupin said he _hated_ Harry's father, so I don't see why that would, well…make him change sides."

"Ah. I _thought_ you might ask me that. The truth is, I may have _misled_ Harry a bit. Because he still hasn't learned to protect his mind effectively from Voldemort, I always had to be very careful about what I told him, since our greatest enemy might've been observing through Harry. Therefore it was essential that, when I was killed, Harry be _convinced_ of Severus' betrayal, otherwise Severus' life might've been forfeit. As far as Severus' loyalty, however…there is more than one reason why I trust him.

But the best, perhaps, is because he has in fact _destroyed_ one of Voldemort's horcruxes _himself_."

Hermione's face lit up in pleasant surprise. "_What_? So Harry _really_ only needs to be looking for…"

"No, I'm afraid he still has three more horcruxes to locate. You see, Severus, along with Regulus Black's help, destroyed the locket Harry and I went to retrieve from the cave the evening I died."

_What_? But _why_ had Dumbledore dragged Harry off to that horrid cave, and why all the pretense; why put himself through drinking that _horrible_ potion Harry had told them about….

Dumbledore's portrait chuckled quietly. "I can see I've created more questions with my answer, than answers…" He watched as Hermione struggled to put things together.

Her eyes widened as she began to understand. "But, it _does_ makes sense, _doesn't_ it? I think I knew in the back of my head that there _had_ to be someone helping R.A.B. to destroy the horcrux, since one person _alone_ couldn't do it. Oh, and this means Sirius' older brother wasn't a traitor after all, right? Although he probably wouldn't be happy to know he'd been working with Snape…" She petered off, thinking it all over.

"You know, I'd actually been _wondering_ why only one person had taken credit. He was protecting Snape?" She paused. "And in the letter, R.A.B. seemed to know he would die. How…?"

"The potion, my dear. It is a slow acting poison that does not have a known cure. As Harry can no doubt tell you, I must've been very weakened in my last remaining moments."

"Don't you remember, sir?"

"I'm afraid not. Perhaps you don't know that a portrait receives the memories of their human counterpart through a spell cast by said which or wizard? The last time I cast that spell was just before I called Harry to me to retrieve the horcrux." He paused. She looked ready to explode.

"But…wasn't it _meaningless_, sir? _Why_ would you go if you already knew the horcrux had been destroyed by Snape and Regulus _Black_?" She couldn't help sounding exasperated. It had been such a _horrible_ experience for Harry.

"I know it seems strange, my dear, but there were a few very good reasons. The game of chess Severus has been playing with Voldemort had to be continued, of course, and Harry's link to Voldemort plays a part in that game now. You see, _Severus_ was the one to report back to Voldemort about Regulus' death, naturally making it look as though he had tracked him down and killed him. So if Voldemort were to find out that I knew about Regulus' trip to the cave, and thus hadn't bothered going there myself, then there was a chance that Severus could be compromised. And Voldemort could easily have found that out, I believe, through his link with Harry.

"The trip to the cave also served partially to _prepare_ Harry. He needed to have some hands-on experience with the kinds of traps Voldemort has set up to guard his horcruxes, so as to understand how _difficult_ it would be to destroy them after finding them. The location of the horcrux was important too, in that its symbolic significance to Voldemort may give Harry insight into the locations of the other horcruxes. And again, I also didn't want Harry to know that I already knew the horcrux had been taken in order to avoid answering more difficult questions about _how_ I knew, since that led dangerously close to Severus' involvement.

"So, in short, taking Harry to the cave served a dual purpose in that it protected Severus, and gave Harry a much needed if, I admit, perfectly horrible experience." Dumbledore paused for a moment, growing solemn. " If there is one thing I regret above all others, it is the pain I have brought upon Harry, in more ways than one."

Hermione looked down at her feet, frowning. "So, sir…Am I right that _you_ would've died that night due to the _potion_, had Snape killed you or not?" She felt sad and a little lost. It was difficult, somehow, knowing that this man's death, in retrospect, seemed so inevitable. Her anger at Snape was falling away, and it only increased her sadness at Dumbledore's death. It was easier when you had someone to blame, and be _angry_ at.

"In fact….in fact, you were so _insistent_ that Harry get you to Snape so he could…so he could…"

"Yes. So he could fulfill the unbreakable vow. If I had died before reaching him, then Draco, by the wording of the vow, would have failed in his task, since he would be in no way responsible for my death. Severus, as a result, would've died too, since that is the result of breaking such a vow."

Dumbledore paused, his voice softening. "Child, you must keep in mind that I have lived a long, fruitful life, and though perhaps old to you, Severus is not yet forty. _Truly_, it would have been a crime to have chosen my life over his."

They both fell silent, and a sort of calm fell between them. Hermione could feel all the facts settling into place, which in itself was calming. Somehow she had _known_, deep down, that things weren't what they seemed. She just hadn't been able to fathom what was wrong, which made sense, when so very much of what she _thought_ she knew had been wrong, or at least…not quite _right_. In short, the picture was so distorted, she hadn't had a prayer of putting it to rights, yet had known it wasn't accurate.

But it was very overwhelming. How was she going to keep this a _secret_? Everyone hated Snape's _guts_. It seemed unfair that he should be in danger from both sides. And now, how was he supposed to…

"Sir, if everyone is convinced of Snape's treachery, _how_ is he supposed to continue spying for the Order? Does someone else know…?"

Dumbledore peered at her, his face strangely unreadable. "That is a very good question, Miss Granger, and one I'm very glad you asked. As a matter of fact, I believe we have the _perfect_ person for relaying information gathered by him to the Order."

"Who?"

"_You_, my dear, if you will consent." Hermione did a double take. Actually, she'd rather walked into that one, looking back.

"I'm…the _only_ person who knows the truth, Professor Dumbledore? _Surely_ there are other members who would be better suited…" She couldn't help feeling a little trepidation at stepping into such a role, and was throwing up her best defense: logic. "And how would I get in touch with him anyway?" It was a strange thought, coming face to face with the man who had killed Dumbledore, even if he _was_ on her side.

"Do you see that mirror on the far wall, Miss Granger? Kindly break it."

She blinked. "Professor?"

"You will find something just behind the glass, I believe." She shrugged, and taking out her wand, cast a relatively mild hex at the mirror, shattering it. Looking carefully inside the shallow casing, she located and plucked out a black, rubbery stick of undetermined material about three inches long, and only a quarter of an inch thick.

"That's it. Just bend the two ends together until they're touching, for a moment." She did so, finding that it sprang immediately back into place after she let go.

"What did I do, Professor?"

"First, please fix the mirror. I would like you to keep this little gadget with you at all times. It will allow you to call Severus Snape to you at any time, anywhere." She fixed the mirror as he spoke, and turned around to face the portrait.

"Oh! Then you mean I've just called…"

But her train of thought ended abruptly when suddenly there stood Severus Snape himself, not three feet away, and in the back of her mind Hermione recognized that the book he clutched in his right hand must've been a port key. You couldn't apparate inside the school barriers, after all.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Author's note:**

Edit! I've obviously decided to continue the fanfic, as there are four chapters following this one, and more to come.

Hey, everybody. This is my first attempt at writing a Harry Potter fanfiction, though I've read quite a few. I hope it wasn't too horrible. sheepish grin I know this seems like the beginning of a story, but I'm sorry to say that it was really my way of getting out all (or most, anyway) of my inane theories about book six. As such, I don't really have plans to continue this, though I might squeeze out another chapter if only to get out a few more theories untouched in this chapter. I thought that Hermione, being the clever one, would be the most likely to find something amiss with everyone's verdict of Snape, and might delve a little deeper, as she seems to do with everything.

I should say that my good friend Amy mentioned grilling portraits for information, genius that she is. The theories about R.A.B., Snape, etc, were worked out between my mother, Amy, and myself. Fun talks, those. My favorite theory didn't come up in this story, though. Keh.

More stuff…I imagine Snape would have to give Hermione lessons in occlumency, since she has a lot on her mind that needs protecting. Of course, Dumbledore's logic in telling her in the first place would be that he can see she shows all the signs of having talent in occlumency, and is trusted by the other Order members (and, importantly, Harry) so will be able to pass information relatively unhindered. She is also (obviously) very intelligent, and with practice should be able to word things carefully and avoid uncomfortable situations with her friends when it came to how she was getting her information (not unlike how Snape and Dumbledore could twist things, albeit in very different ways).


	2. Mensavoco

**Come Again? A Series of Unexpected Revelations**

Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yak, yak, yak. I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.

**Previous Chapter:**

But her train of thought ended abruptly when suddenly there stood Severus Snape himself, not three feet away, and in the back of her mind Hermione recognized that the book he clutched in his right hand must've been a port key. You couldn't apparate inside the school barriers, after all.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Mensavoco  
**

Hermione gasped and couldn't help taking a step back as Severus Snape's intimidating form appeared out of nowhere. Her heart rate had risen exponentially in the span of a second, along with the urge to hex the invader. Fortunately her common sense was still intact, even with all the adrenaline pumping through her system. _Calm…down_.

After her initial shock, she realized belatedly that they were mirroring each other with wands out and at the ready. He was watching her like a hawk, following her every movement. She forced herself to visibly relax, slowly putting her wand away. _No need to make a wrong move and get hexed._ After a moment he lowered his wand as well, and the wary look left his eyes. _Well this is awkward…_

"Hello…Professor." _Brilliant, Hermione._

"I am no longer your professor." With that he turned around and, after locating Dumbledore's portrait, made his way over to it. She let out a silent breath, relieved that he had stopped scrutinizing her. _Really! Dumbledore could've _warned_ me!_ It wasn't like tall, dark, and menacing men popped into existence around her all the time.

In retrospect, though, she had just asked how she could get in touch with Snape. She just didn't expect an immediate demonstration.

She tuned back into her surroundings when she heard Snape start to speak again. "I should've guessed it would be Granger." His back was to her, but she couldn't help feeling affronted at his indignant tone. "How much does she know?"

She stood still for another moment, not wanting to do anything quickly after so many stressful surprises that night. She came around Snape, being sure to give him a wide berth, as Dumbledore began speaking.

"Hello, Severus. As direct and to the point as ever, I see." Dumbledore's eyes crinkled as he looked at Snape thoughtfully. "In short, Miss Granger knows about the unbreakable vow, and your hand in destroying the horcrux."

Snape scowled. "In short," he said with more than a hint of condescension in his voice, "you've told her enough to make her dangerous." Hermione frowned. She wanted to say something, but was feeling strangely out of place. Which was ridiculous, since they were talking about her!

"She has promised not to tell a soul, Severus."

"That hardly matters if the Dark Lord decides to invade her mind."

"You're right…if he were given the incentive, and a chance to do so. However, she now has access to a very skilled Legilimens." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Snape, smiling pleasantly. Snape's scowl deepened significantly. "I think it would be prudent of her to avail herself of this great asset." With that, Dumbledore shifted his attention to Hermione. "Well, my dear, how would you feel about learning the art of occlumency?"

Hermione balked. She looked back and forth between the two. Snape was still glaring daggers at Dumbledore's portrait, clearly not relishing the idea of giving her lessons. However, she couldn't help feeling intrigued, if only on an intellectual level, at the thought of learning such a unique skill. At the same time a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach informed her that, yes, she had been pushed quite effectively into a corner.

"I suppose it would be foolish not to want to protect myself at this point. And Professor Snape of course." She added. She had addressed Dumbledore, but looked down at her hands afterward, since both he and Snape, who had finally turned away from the imperturbable Dumbledore, seemed intent on staring at her. Her shyness tripled as the silence grew.

Then she heard Snape sigh. "Even now you still find ways to meddle, old man." She looked up and was surprised to see Snape addressing her…no, that was wrong. His eyes were looking through her, at something far away that only he could see. Suddenly she was strongly reminded that Dumbledore was in fact gone, and that she had merely been talking to a portrait charmed with his likeness.

Her eyes widened as Snape suddenly focused back on her, lip curling into a sneer. "You may call me 'Professor' after all, Miss Granger," he said, voice cold and sarcastic. His eyes narrowed, and she got the horrible feeling that he was sizing her up, perhaps trying to predict how she would fair at occlumency?

Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Snape's dark mood, however. "Excellent." He exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "You two should get started as soon as possible." He paused, peering at Hermione. "However, perhaps there are other things to consider first. Miss Granger…is there anything on your mind?" His question took her back to the beginning of their conversation, when everything had been much simpler, and he had asked her the very same thing. She wondered if coming there had saved her any sleep at all. In fact, she was feeling more worried than before, along with several other unpleasant things, such as nervous, tired, and yes, a tad scared of what Dumbledore wanted her to so recklessly jump into. So she said as much.

"Well…yes! I never really got a chance to decide _anything_, really. I mean, about relaying information from Snape. I mean, Professor Snape…" She paused, flustered. Snape looked a tad amused, which helped to calm her down immensely. She wasn't going to look stupid in front of _him_. "I never agreed about relaying information to the Order. And I didn't realize how much I'd have to keep from everyone, even if I'm _not_ a go-between. And how am I supposed to convince them the information is good, or tell them where I got it? I'll have to lie about that too, I suppose." She stopped, having run out of steam temporarily.

"If you so choose, though I sincerely hope you won't, Severus can perform a memory charm on you and you may, quite literally, forget this ever happened."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore's portrait, horrified. "You mean an Obliviate, sir? No, I could never do that. And besides, " she squared her shoulders and frowned, "I promised I wouldn't tell a soul, so you can be sure I won't." He wasn't…serious, was he?

"Wonderful, my dear. I'm sorry if my offer offended, but I had to make it available all the same. You needed to know the option was and is there, in any case. However, since you choose to keep your memory untouched and pure, I must at the least insist on the occlumency lessons with Severus. If you would rather not relay information for him, however, that information can still reach the Order by other, if less reliable, means."

Her eyebrows went up. "I…well, if I'm going to be having lessons I might as well help, sir."

Snape turned on her suddenly and started speaking, his voice goading and virulent. "Are you _sure_, Miss Ganger? You won't have Potter or Weasely to confide in. No family or friends may know; no one whomsoever. Indeed, you will never feel truly comfortable around them, since you will have to constantly watch what you say to whom, and when. You will have to leave your home at odd times, mostly late at night. You will have to convince the Order, and keep them convinced, that this information is trustworthy. And no one can suspect that you have reason to view me other than as a murdering, treacherous Death Eater." The last bit was hissed at her slowly, with emphasis on each word, and she had to tell herself to calm down. _He forgot threatening_, she thought sarcastically. _He's certainly that_. She hadn't been able to look away as he spoke, trapped by his hateful eyes. She knew everything he said was true, and surely he'd experienced something similar himself in the past. Perhaps that was why he looked so angry and resentful? Or perhaps he just hated her and wanted her to _go away_, it was a toss up really…

She stared up at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. It probably wasn't the intended effect, but somehow his harsh speech had left her with a growing sense of defiance. Certainly, it would be tough, but she had been in hard situations before. She'd taken on Death Eaters twice, once a few months ago, and once at the ministry. She had kept secrets before, even from Harry and Ron, such as when she'd used the time turner in her third year. And it wasn't as though this was meaningless! She would be helping, probably in a vital way, to take down Voldemort. Truly, this was a chance to _really_ make a difference, and she wouldn't be doing justice to herself by turning it down.

So she closed her mouth (which seemed to have fallen open sometime during his smoldering talk) and said as calmly as she could, "You don't have to worry about my giving you away, sir. In fact, I daresay keeping up a pretense around everyone, Ron and Harry included, will be surprisingly easy. " She smiled up at him, and then turned to Dumbledore's portrait. "I've already sworn an oath to do my utmost to bring down Voldemort when I joined the Order, sir, and this certainly falls under that oath. I promise to do my best, sir." She couldn't quite keep the smile from her face as she felt her resolve take hold, along with the wonderful feeling that she was doing the right thing; had made the _right decision_.

"I know you will, my dear." Dumbledore's voice was warm. "Well, we've much to do, and very little time before both of you must be on your way. I think, Severus," he quirked an eye towards Snape, "that perhaps you should walk Miss Granger through the creation of her own mensavoco tonight." He glanced behind them. "Or should I say this morning?" Hermione followed his line of vision to see a clock on the wall near the mirror she broke earlier. It read five until four. _Wow! Time flies when you're…erm_. She had caught Snape's eye just then, and couldn't bring herself to think 'having fun'. It just wasn't right.

Hermione backed up as Snape strode past her towards the Headmistress's desk and put down the book he was holding.

"Very well, Albus." He turned and walked back over to her, while putting the tip of his wand to his head, left hand cupped behind his left ear. "Finite Incatatem." This was said under his breath, and she watched as he withdrew another black stick, similar to the one she was still holding. He held it out to her. "This is a mensavoco object, currently charmed for Albus Dumbledore. For the most part, all you have to do is hold it while I bind it to you." He looked down his nose at her, eyebrows slightly raised. "I trust that won't be too difficult."

She took it from him, trying her best not to feel slighted, and focused instead on finding out all she could about the nature of the mensavoco charm. She looked up, ready with her first question.

Apparently Snape could see it in her eyes, and decided to stop her before she had a chance to begin. "The mensavoco charm creates a bond between an object and a person, Miss Granger. Hold it out flat on your palm, please. And give the other one to me for now." She did as he asked, and he pocketed the other charm. He placed his wand over her hand and muttered a few things under his breath. She thought she caught another 'finite incatatem' in the mix. He lowered his wand after a few moments, and she took the opportunity to speak.

"So when I bent it together earlier, I summoned you here, sir?" He seemed ready to give answers without being vitriolic (relatively speaking) in the process, a novelty for him. So she'd get her questions in while she could.

"Not exactly, Miss Granger." He titled his head slightly. "It sends a signal felt internally by the person attached to the charm." When she opened her mouth to speak, he added, "I'll demonstrate later." He paused, and she waited for him to continue. His eyes glittered, and she thought he might be testing her patience.

"It can also be used as a port key object. When creating a port key, people usually spell it to take the user to a specific place. The mensavoco charm allows you to create a port key that will take the charmed individual to their mensavoco object. You can no doubt see the advantages in this." He stopped, waiting for an answer. On some level Hermione was amazed he hadn't simply skipped the explanation in favor of simply marching her through the incantation. And though still brusque and a bit snide, Snape didn't seem bent on intimidating her, as he had been earlier.

"This charm would allow you to go wherever I am when I call you, or vise versa, which means we aren't confined to meeting in one place?" She frowned, and added, "It… also means we won't need predetermined meeting places, or times, since we'll be able to get a hold of and go to one another directly." She stopped, and scathing remarks about her 'know-it-all' tendencies loomed in the back of her mind as she waited to hear his response.

"Exactly." She struggled to squelch the look of surprise. No rebuke! The sun and the moon had switched places in the sky, the polar ice caps were melting, hell was freezing over, and somewhere, she thought, there must be a pig, or maybe a whole flock of pigs flying along merrily. Snape looked rather detached, almost distracted, but he must've sensed something because he looked up at her.

"Really, Miss Granger, this isn't the class room. The faster you get things the better. Did you expect me to take off house points?" His tone was sardonic while his eyes glittered with amusement. He looked over the Headmaster's portrait. "Perhaps you should explain how we've used the mensavoco charms in the past, Albus, while I begin the incantation." He glanced back at her. "You don't have to do anything for a while yet. Raise your hand again." It had dropped while they were talking. He raised his wand to her hand once again, and focusing on the mensavoco object, began muttering under his breath. She wished he'd speak louder so she could hear what he said, but her attention was distracted when Dumbledore (his portrait, she reminded herself) addressed her. Unfortunately she was only half facing him and didn't want to distract Snape by moving, so found herself only looking at the portrait out of the corner of her eye. She could just barely make out his twinkling smile.

"We have a simple system, my dear, which allows us to avoid dangerous situations. Typically, Severus would call me by briefly tapping the two ends of the mensavoco together. I would respond by returning the gesture when it was safe for him to come to me. If he wanted me to come to him, he would simply tap the ends together twice, quickly. If he needed to come to me quickly due to an emergency, he would tap three times. If there was an emergency that require me to go immediately to him, he would hold the ends together for several seconds. You see, the longer you keep the connection up, the more urgent it becomes."

"I think I understand, sir, but I should like to hear it said a few more times just to make sure." Hermione saw the logic, but didn't want to confuse one signal for another. Another thought occurred to her, "Also, what if I'm asleep. Will it wake me up?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. In the past, we repeated the signal three or four times, perhaps a few more at night…" She thought he might've thrown a look at Snape. "Just to make sure the message got through. Don't worry, he won't hold back there." Snape was still working on the incantation, for otherwise he surely would've said something. She started as he moved his wand tip to her forehead, and continued speaking under his breath.

Dumbledore drew her attention back to him, "I'll go through the signals a few more times, Miss Granger. It's best that you don't move or speak for this part of the incantation, so just sit tight." With that he started going through them again, and she began committing them to memory: one short, and one short in response, two short, three short is an emergency, as is one long…Dumbledore fell silent after a few minutes and she continued repeating them in her head.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Repeat after me." Hermione snapped to attention. That was Snape, voice raised above a whisper after what must've been close to twenty minutes of murmuring. He had moved the wand between her hand and her head a few more times in the interim. She looked him in the eyes so he knew she was paying attention, and waited to hear him speak.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It took another ten minutes of parroting Snape before they were done, during which time she noted that they were actually repeating a set of phrases several times. She had wondered how Snape could memorize what sounded like an entire speech in ancient Latin, or perhaps another language used for magic. Apparently this was an incantation that required many repetitions: of words, sentences, and groups of sentences. During the course of the spell, the adrenaline had slowly worked its way out of her system, and she now felt drained. She looked over at the clock and saw that it was half past five. Surely they didn't have much more time to spend? Her gaze dropped from the clock to a nearby chair. It looked _so_ nice, very comfortable...

"Miss Granger." Snape had pocketed his wand and was holding out his mensavoco to her, eyes glittering. She noted dully that he didn't seem to be _nearly_ as tired as she, smirking at her like that. "You can collapse soon enough, Miss Granger. We're nearly done." He paused and pursed his lips as she stood there, unresponsive. "You take mine and I take yours." Ah, there was the Snape she knew, impatient and condescending. She quickly complied, waking up a bit in response to his acidic tone.

Her eyes opened wide a moment later when he touched the two ends of her mensavoco together. "Oh!" That woke her up quite thoroughly. It felt a bit like a bell going off in her head, or perhaps a bee sting, since the initial attack did feel as though someone had poked something sharp inside her head for an instant.

"There's your demonstration." His smirk had returned, and she was vaguely tempted to give him a counter demonstration, but realized she was being silly. He just looked a tad too vindictive for her tastes.

"I use a simple shrinking charm coupled with an adhering spell to keep it close." She watched as he shrank it to the size of her pinky nail, and then stuck it firmly to the spot just behind his left ear using another spell. _Ah_. She remembered his actions from earlier. _That's what he was doing._ She copied him, too uncreative to think of another way to hide it at the moment, and looked back up at him.

"When will we meet next, Professor?" She assumed they were done for the night, and hoped he wouldn't contradict her.

He thought for a moment. "Not before Thursday night." _Thank heaven._ It was Wednesday morning, and she was grateful to have that night to sleep. "I'll call you, as planned. We shouldn't meet here in the future, so make sure you've found a suitably out of the way classroom. I suggest one on the sixth floor." His tone turned hard, and he watched her carefully to make sure she was listening. "Secure it by locking the door and using a silencing charm, of course, before responding. If you remember anything, remember that." He held her eyes for a moment, and then pursed his lips. He could see another question in her eyes. "Anything else can wait until next time. I'll go over how to spell a port key, and we'll start on occlumency. Don't, " his voice turned harsh for a moment, "mention having a source yet. You need to have a firm grasp of occlumency before doing that, since some members of the Order have some experience in that field." With a sweep of his robes he made his way back to the headmistress's desk, toward the book; the port key that brought him there.

"Good night Severus." Dumbledore's portrait had been silent for a while, but perked up in time to bid them fair well. Snape turned halfway back around, and nodded jerkily.

"Albus." He hesitated, and then looked back at Hermione. He locked hooded eyes on her for a split second, "Miss Granger."

"Professor." He turned back to grasp the book and was gone. She blinked at where he had been. Sleepiness was starting to descend once more.

"I daresay you should be on your way as well, Miss Granger." She turned to see Dumbledore's portrait smiling at her.

"Yes, Professor. I…I'll see you later, then."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, sooner or later. Good luck, my dear." She smiled back, and made her way toward the door, pulling the invisibility cloak back on as she went.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ten minutes later saw Hermione picking out several books from the library shelves. _Got to make it look like I was researching._ After gathering as many as she could comfortably hold, she made her way towards one of the more secluded tables to position them all convincingly. And facing the right way up. She giggled a bit. _Yes Harry, I read books upside down all the time. It gives you an entirely different perspective, don't you know? _ She sobered up a bit. Actually, Professor Snape had been rather nice tonight, considering his typical self. Bar the initial speech, of course. She sank down into a chair. _Perhaps he was testing me with that speech? To see if I would run away, pitiful little girl that I am? Really. He should know me better by now._ She had to stifle another giggle as she let her head sink down onto her arms. A picture had popped into her head of Harry, herself, Ron, and Snape as old chums, laughing it up at the Three Broomsticks, butterbeers in hand. It was incredible, really, what her fevered imagination could produce when in desperate need of sleep. Hermione snuggled down as best she could, and was out like a light in a few minutes' time.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's Note: Weee. I wrote another chapter. Didn't get around to mentioning my favorite theory, still. Must…wait...until…it makes sense…I've actually thought up a bit of a plot; now I've just got to stick to it.

I really appreciate the reviews I got, and thanks to duj for putting me on a C2…whatever that may be. Er…that is, I know it's a list of fanfiction that supports the idea of Snape being good (or…not pure evil, at least), and I know the C stands for community…but why the 2?

Well, I hope you liked this chapter, and it occurred to me that if somebody catches a big boo-boo (like last chapter I realized I spelled Death Eaters deatheaters instead, which, when you look at it, makes you think "deat- heaters". Ha, ha. Very intimidating.) I'd be much obliged if they'd let me know. I can't say I want flames, of course, but if I'm misspelling Death Eaters…please, feel free to tell me!

Thanks again for reading. And in case you're curious, I came up with mensavoco from the Latin words mens (mind) and voco (call). I've never studied Latin, and I don't know how to put words together or anything really. Any Latin speakers out there? Help in that area would be very much appreciated too. I'm most definitely not above editing previous chapters.


	3. Legilimency

**Double Life **

Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yak, yak, yak. I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Previous Chapter:

She had to stifle another giggle as she let her head sink down onto her arms. A picture had popped into her head of Harry, herself, Ron, and Snape as old chums, laughing it up at the Three Broomsticks, butterbeers in hand. It was incredible, really, what her fevered imagination could produce when in desperate need of sleep. Hermione snuggled down as best she could, and was out like a light in a few minutes' time.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Chapter Three: Legilimency**

Hermione sat in her room Friday evening pouring over a book on Occlumency she'd gotten out of the school library Wednesday. She had woken up there around nine in the morning, after catching a few hours sleep after her tryst to the Headmistress's office, and upon waking had immediately gone about preparing herself for her first lesson with Snape. She doubted he'd be any kinder as a personal tutor than he was as a teacher in the classroom, and was determined to make mastering this subject as efficient and painless as possible.

That didn't mean she wasn't looking forward to it as well. On the contrary, she had been curious about Harry's lessons last year, perhaps even a smidgeon agitated with his attitude about the whole thing. If he had tried harder, so many things could've been prevented. Of course, Harry knew this better than anyone in retrospect, and Hermione felt guilty when her sensible brain pointed out how different things could've been if he'd only tried his best at Occlumency. At the same time this thought helped her concentrate on memorizing the book in front of her. She wasn't going to be unprepared at the wrong time and place. If Snape and Dumbledore thought it was important she could protect herself, then she wasn't going to waste any time doing so.

After reading a bit, she'd quickly discovered that Occlumency and Legilimency were flip sides of the same coin, and that in order to fully grasp one it was necessary to study the other as well. Occlumency was a very complex thing, which according to this book took years to master properly. It involved deflecting and redirecting another person's invasive thoughts. This could be done by erecting a barrier against the attacker's mind, which simply stopped them from entering altogether.

The much more subtle use of Occlumency entailed gentle redirection of the intruder's mind toward things the Occlumens didn't mind being seen. Apparently it was very rarely mastered due to the incredible amount of discipline necessary for a person to control their own thoughts to that degree. Thinking back on what Harry had mentioned about lessons, Hermione imagined that Snape had been teaching him the more basic technique of putting up a shield that would block all intrusion into his mind. Would that be all she would learn as well, or would Snape deem it necessary to train her in the more delicate application of Occlumency?

She sighed deeply and put down the book. It was getting on past ten o'clock, and she had no intention of waiting up for Snape's call tonight as she had last night. She had foolishly stayed up until almost two in the morning, not wanting to be asleep when he called. In retrospect, Snape had said Thursday night was the earliest they could meet, which meant she could theoretically go a week or longer before seeing him again. Eyes drooping, she snuggled under the covers (she was still staying at the Order's headquarters) and drifted off to sleep.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_tap_…….….._tap_……..…._tap_…..…..._tap_………….

Hermione was struggling with a pair of pants, attempting to get them on quickly with out falling over. She'd been woken by the repetitive signal less than a minute ago, when it had first begun. The only problem was, it showed no signs of stopping, and was making her more frantic by the second. _Shut up, you stupid git!_ She knew from the pattern that nothing was drastically wrong, so why didn't he let up? As she was putting on her second tennis shoe, the bee sting inside her head finally subsided. A sense of relief was quickly replaced by slow-burning resentment, and after donning her cloak Hermione grumped her way out of the room and down the hall.

She nearly ran headlong into Harry at the base of the stairs. "Hermione! What're you doing up? It's nearly two in the morning." He looked dead on his feet, probably from spending half the night patrolling with other members of the Order. They all went out in teams to guard key locations from Death Eater attacks. Being more of an early morning person than many, Hermione usually (though not always) ended up with early to mid-morning shifts. She'd actually been dreading getting called by Snape during one of these patrols, since she didn't want to keep him waiting but wasn't willing to abandon her team. They had to be constantly vigilant, to paraphrase Moody, since they served as the first line of defense in the event of a Death Eater attack.

She decided to ignore Harry's question for a bit. "I suppose you just got back from duty?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah. All quiet, though. Is that where you're heading?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"No." She smiled and chuckled quietly. "I seem to have a slight case of insomnia tonight. And well…I thought if I'm so awake I might as well walk around a bit and burn off some energy. But you look dead tired, Harry. Go on and get some sleep." She stepped out of the way to let him pass, smiling warmly_. Everything's fine Harry. I'm just going for a little walk…_

His brow furrowed slightly. "Hermione." Her eyes widened slightly. _Oh no!_ Did she give something away? She had been relatively calm a moment ago, but suddenly she feared that somehow she'd said or done something wrong and he knew she was lying.

"I know you've heard this before, but…be careful, okay? You. You're a…a muggleborn, and you're my friend, so…you'd be quite a catch, you know?" He looked down at her, tired eyes filled with worry. Her heart melted, and the fear was replaced with a faint stab of guilt. _Oh Harry…_

"Harry, you silly… I've never done anything stupid or reckless, unless I was with you, of course." He smiled lopsidedly. "And I'm not going to start now. Now go to sleep, and don't worry about me, please." He turned and began walking up the stairs.

"G'night, 'Mione."

"Goodnight Harry." She watched until he was out of sight, and then silently made her way out of the house.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione bit her lip in trepidation. She had just finished sealing herself into a long forsaken classroom on Hogwarts' sixth floor, and was technically ready to call Snape. It had been over forty-five minutes since he had signaled her and any grumpiness she'd felt had long since gone. Along with her self confidence. It occurred to her on the way there that she'd be meeting him alone this time, though Dumbledore's portrait wasn't technically alive…

_Perhaps I should make it more inhabitable first._ She had summoned a few candles for light, but went ahead and summoned several lamps, which immediately made the room less gloomy. She went on to summon two chairs, unsure if they would need them. Perhaps she should clean up a bit? It was very dusty…_Oh, this is ridiculous. Just call him already._ She reached behind her ear, and releasing and enlarging the mensavoco charm, bent the ends briefly together. She squared her shoulders and waited.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Severus Snape was dozing fitfully when the mensavoco charm woke him with a start. _Finally…_ He'd forgotten that she wasn't at Hogwarts as Dumbledore had been which made the wait stretch from perhaps five minutes to nearly an hour. He'd have to take that into account in the future. At the moment, however, he had fallen into a rather foul mood. He'd started off nearly an hour ago waiting smugly, since he'd known his method of signaling Granger would drive her batty. He'd gotten impatient after ten minutes time, and had begun pacing angrily back and forth. _What did she think she was doing? If this was some petty payback for his bit of fun from earlier, he would make her pay dearly. Insolent little Gryffindor idiot. Didn't she realize what she had been entrusted with? _A few minutes of pacing later, and he was seriously contemplating obliviating her and being done with it. If the little nitwit couldn't even be bothered to get there in a timely fashion, he didn't dare trust her with keeping his secret safe.

A minute later he'd finally realized what was taking her so long, and his anger had dissipated somewhat, to be replaced with a feeling of petulance and slight embarrassment. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling embarrassed. However, he felt calmer knowing there was a perfectly innocent reason for the delay, and he had flopped down on the couch to wait, his nervous energy having dissipated along with the anger. That had been half an hour ago, just long enough for him to drowse off. Things were _not_ going as planned. He sighed and stood up, stretching a bit to wake back up. He used the mensavoco charm to spell a port key, the same book as before, and was off. On the way there, he hoped she wouldn't notice he'd been drowsing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_His hair's all mussed. I think I woke him up._ Professor Snape had a distinctly grumpy look to him when he popped into existence a few feet away, and unbeknownst to him this made Hermione Granger feel a lot better. She simply couldn't feel very afraid of a sleepy Snape. He glanced around, and she could see him pull himself together. His posture improved slightly, eyes narrowed into a more Snape-ish expression, and he pushed his hair back behind his left ear, fixing most of the disarray. In a moment's time he'd transformed back into her Professor, but before that he'd been sleepy Snape, a memory she'd keep for whenever he decided to intimidate her again.

"Miss Granger. I trust you got here as soon as you could." He looked down his nose at her coldly, voice silky.

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry for the wait." She hesitated. Oh well, it's now or never. "With all due respect, sir, you don't have to signal me so many times. The first time woke me up, so two or three signals at most should be necessary."

He smiled thinly at her. "You never know when a person might be sleeping exceptionally deeply, and I did call around two in the morning." Snape felt a little better. Aggravating students, Gryffindors especially, was a favorite pastime of his, and one that had been forsaken the moment he'd struck down the Headmaster.

Hermione frowned slightly. _Git_. He'd probably do it longer next time, now that she'd told him it annoyed her. "You know, it's quite distracting Professor. I might do something stupid with it going off repeatedly in my head."

"Consider it training. I assure you having someone root around in your head is much more distracting than a mensavoco charm." Darn, she should've seen that coming. "Speaking of which, I'm going to show you how to spell a port key using the mensavoco charm as a pointer. Then we'll get started on Occlumency." He took her through the steps for spelling a port key using the mensavoco charm, which were much simpler than for a typical port key spell since a large part of the port key spell was incorporated into the mensavoco charm. A simple motion of the wand and a few words was all it took to spell a key that would take her to her mensavoco object, which Snape kept at all times, as she kept his. She practiced several times using a quill (the first thing that came to mind) she conjured up as the port key. After being jerked nearly instantaneously across the room to Snape and back again by the navel for a few minutes, she was ready to move on.

Apparently so was he. The charm was meant to pull someone from a considerable distance, and since she was practicing it so nearby she popped into existence less than a foot away instead of the usual three or four feet. The first time they'd both taken an involuntary hop back, which in retrospect was quite amusing to Hermione, though Snape was finding the whole thing bothersome and distasteful. After that initial surprise Snape refused to react and waited for her to back off, which she did in a hurry.

"Enough." He stared down at her disdainfully as she stepped hastily back once again. "I trust you'll keep this charm fresh in your mind, should you need to port key to me in the future."

"Yes sir." _Phew. At least that is done with._ She waited for him to go on, assuming they'd be moving to the next order of business.

"Occlumency, Miss Granger. Tell me what you know about it." She smiled. That was probably the first time he'd ever asked her a direct question in a class room setting, and even though there was no one else to call on, it felt to her like a tiny battle had been won.

"I've been reading a book called _Occlumency and Legilimency: Subtle Magics of the Mind_, and it states that…"

Snape interrupted in a cold voice. "Written by Whittis Janderly, I believe."

"Er, yes sir."

"How far have you read?"

"I'm half-way through chapter eight, titled "Thought Diversion".

He pulled out his wand, lip curling up slightly. "Then we can move straight to putting theory to practice." Actually, he was looking forward to draining off a little of his bad temper, and this offered an excellent opportunity.

_Why does he have to look so eager?_ Hermione didn't appreciate the malevolent glint in his cold eyes, and knew she didn't have long to prepare herself.

"I'm going to attempt to break into your mind, Miss Granger. Empty it of all emotion and concentrate on repelling me." He raised his wand. "Ready." She tried hard not to panic as he zeroed in on her, and forced a calming breath in and out of her lungs. "Three. Two. One. Legilimens!"

She saw herself falling out of a tree when she was seven years old, then slowing down and landing unharmed, having caught herself in the nick of time. It was the first time she'd used magic, not knowing then what it was. The memory shifted. It was the summer after her fourth year, and she was watching a movie in the theater with her mother. It was about magic, ironically, and the main character had just yelled "Abra Cadabra!" on the large screen. She'd been struck at the time by the similarity in cadence it had to the killing curse. Somewhere in her mind Hermione squirmed_. I'm supposed to be fighting this!_ Sooner or later he'd happen upon a memory she didn't want him to see…

Suddenly, it was her second year at Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron had just caused a diversion in Potions. She rushed past the confusion and zeroed in on quickly gathering the right ingredients for the polyjuice potion…_no, please don't be seeing this_...fortunately everything was neatly arranged and labeled, making it easy to grab…._agh, no!_

"Ugh…" She was sitting on the ground looking at Snape's feet. She had fallen backward, probably during her panicked attempt to wrestle her way out of the Legilimency. The result was a bruised bottom. In fact, she wasn't sure she had broken away, and that he hadn't simply chosen to release her. A sense of horror was growing in her belly. There were relatively few things she had done in her life she really, really didn't want him to find out about, and that had been one of them. She kept her eyes on the ground, daring to hope that perhaps, just perhaps he hadn't seen…

"If I were still a Professor here that bit of information would be enough to get you expelled." She flinched. His voice continued, silky and glacial. "And here I was thinking it was Potter who was responsible. I should've known he didn't have the brains to find and take all the missing ingredients so swiftly. Was it your idea, or did they convince you to do it? I'm assuming Weasely was in on it as well." His voice dropped low and took on a dangerous edge. "Look at me when I'm speaking, Granger." Lips tight, she stood up from the ground, and looked up into his face. He still loomed over her, and she silently cursed their height difference. His eyes flashed as he went on. "But what I really want to know is why you were brewing a polyjuice potion?"

Her jaw tightened. He could remain in the dark for all she cared. She had felt her actions were justified at the time. A little voice disagreed, however. _No you didn't. You never thought Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin. You just wanted to try your hand at making the polyjuice potion, and that was your excuse._ She savagely crushed the annoying voice-that-was-her-conscience. _That was years ago! I'm a sixth year, not a second year!_

Snape took a step closer. "Perhaps I'll just find out right now, since you don't have any intention of telling me." He snarled inwardly. She was nearly as bad as Potter, pushing all the wrong buttons. Even now, was she sorry for how she had acted? Had she apologized and offered up some sort of excuse, however flimsy? Well, he could find out with or without her permission, while giving her a taste of what could happen to her if she didn't master the art of Occlumency.

Hermione's eyes widened when Snape continued to advance on her. "What? Wait a minute! This has nothing to do with training me!"

His lip curled. "On the contrary, it has everything to do with it! You're supposed to be learning to protect your thoughts, and until you do, you're a liability. Three. Two." She panicked, knowing she didn't have a chance. "One. Legilimens!"

This time it was different. He was pushing through her thoughts, hunting for memories specific to the polyjuice potion…she was adding ingredients to the potion in Moaning Myrtles bathroom, she was talking to Ron and Harry about how far along she was, then they were discussing the heir of Slytherin and she suggested the polyjuice potion…

It was over fairly quickly, and looking up from the ground she was sure this time that he had broken the connection, not her. She was breathing fast, and discovered to her horror that she was starting to cry. She stared hard at the floor, blinking back tears. She would _not_ cry! But every bad memory associated with Snape was welling up in her suddenly, the incident with her teeth coming up to the forefront. And yet…there had been a silver lining to that cloud. If she hadn't gotten her teeth hexed, she wouldn't have had the opportunity to shrink them down a bit. This thought seemed to help calm her, and to her relief the urge to cry subsided. So Snape was a bully. What was new? She should've known he wouldn't change. So he was a double agent, so she was helping him and was trusted to keep his identity safe. Apparently that didn't mean he liked her or respected her anymore than he did before. Fine. She could live with that. She could master this, and she knew there would be payback eventually. When she got good enough to enter his mind she could dredge up a few embarrassing memories, she was sure…

Hermione looked up suddenly from where she sat. He hadn't said anything yet, and she was starting to wonder. He was looking down at her, a strange look in his eyes. It shifted so abruptly to that of cool aloofness that she was hard pressed to label it. But she thought she had seen…a hint of regret? He put away his wand.

"I think that's enough hands-on-experience for now. Let's go back over what happened with my initial attack. Do you remember the sequence of memories?" He made his way over to one of the chairs, his back to her.

She stood up shakily, and took the opportunity to swipe her eyes. She hoped he wouldn't comment when she gave one loud sniffle to avoid leaking the contents of her nose. If she didn't know better, she'd say he almost seemed a bit apologetic, though she sincerely doubted it. In any case he was moving on, which was more than okay with her. She followed him, pocketing her own wand, and sat down in the other chair.

He started speaking again. "If you can, try and analyze what you were thinking as each memory occurred. I seem to remember your falling out of a tree…" He raised an eyebrow.

"That was the first time I remember using magic." She frowned. "I don't remember thinking anything in particular. Before we started I was trying to calm my mind, but when the memories started, I got sucked in a bit and just started…watching them."

"Not unlike how you passively sit and watch a movie." She thought over his comment, trying to ignore the fact that as a wizard, he really shouldn't have known about movies. But he didn't know about her research into his parentage, and she wasn't about to inform him of it.

"So you're saying…my passive thoughts acted as a trigger for a relatively passive memory?"

"Yes. When a person lets their mind wander, the seemingly random thoughts are almost always related to one another in some way. A person thinks of the ocean, then thinks of a fish, which leads them to think about what they're going to eat for dinner. And so on. What did you see after that?"

She looked down. "I…I saw myself in potions class." Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh! I remember, I was worrying that you'd see something I didn't want you to if I didn't start concentrating on pushing you out. And so my mind went straight to what I didn't want you to see."

"This is a common trick used by people skilled in Legilimency, actually. They find some way of pushing a person into triggering the memory they want. By warning you that I intended to find out why you had decided to brew polyjuice potion, you unwittingly set up a neat chain of memories leading me straight to my goal. In this sense, mastering Occlumency is very counterintuitive. But there are many techniques, some of which that book has mentioned, for protecting your mind. For instance, you can focus all of your attention on a single thought, blotting everything else from your mind. For the person searching your mind, everything is overpowered by that thought, like an inescapable cloud. Also, only the owner of those thoughts can link them together for the intruder, so if the Occlumens keeps their concentration on something else, those connections drop away making it nearly impossible for the intruder to navigate." _So_, Hermione thought, _he did have a legitimate reason for attacking me_. It was to demonstrate a technique she had to prepare herself against.

Snape continued. "Another method, which is much more advanced and one you won't be able to try for some time, is the creation of false memories, and false connections. If a person knows they are going to have their mind searched for a specific memory, they can construct a false memory to give the intruder. It's difficult since true memories have to flow naturally into the false ones at some point, and a skilled Legilimens can sense the difference between the two if it isn't done subtly enough. Another skill, closely related to this one, doesn't involve creating new memories per se, but centers on providing only partial memories, or leaving out certain memories altogether to create a false impression of events." He crossed his arms over his chest. "This is very difficult since the Occlumens must bring up memories surrounding the memory they are hiding. If they think of that memory at any time the Legilimens has access to it. This method, along with the previous method, requires a form of self-hypnoses, where the Occlumens temporarily convinces themselves that events taking place in the past were different somehow, that certain things didn't happen, and so on." Hermione's curiosity was piqued. Exactly how much experience did Snape have with this?

"Did…do you use that technique with Lord…"

"Kindly don't say the name." His voice sharpened for a moment, and he paused. Would he tell her? "In answer to your question, yes, I do. I mostly provide complete or slightly altered memories. The trick is altering the emotions associated with them. The Dark Lord wished to witness Albus Dumbledore's death, for example, and chose to do so through me."

Hermione gasped. She couldn't imagine…having to share that with Voldemort, let alone committing the act. And Snape had altered his memory of it somehow? She was curious, but afraid to ask. It seemed terribly personal, and Dumbledore's death was still close to her heart.

Snape's voice was sneering. "It wasn't as hard as you might think. I was quite angry with Dumbledore at the time for being his usual manipulative self." Hermione couldn't keep the surprise from her face.

Snape pursed his lips. "He arranged it quite neatly, you see. If I had refused to kill him, I would accomplish nothing since he was already dying and surrounded by Death Eaters. On the other hand, my killing him saved him the horror of Fenrir's depraved attentions and placed me firmly inside the Dark Lord's inner circle, the ideal position for a spy. Of course, he hadn't predicted the Death Eater attack I don't think." He snorted. "It was an added bonus, I suppose…"

"Wait, Professor Dumbledore wasn't like that! He would never want the school to be attacked by Death Eaters!" She could see the logic so far, but that was just going too far, surely…

"Of course he wouldn't have wanted it in and of itself, but when other factors are taken into account I've no doubt he viewed it as the perfect set up in his long term strategy for defeating the Dark Lord."

"You mean…because of the publicity?"

"Surely you've noticed how the ministry's attitude has changed toward Dumbledore's supporters? Any vestiges of doubt that Dumbledore was just as power hungry as the Dark Lord were swept away with his death. It also served to unite the public against the Dark Lord, and I've no doubt the Order has more ready and willing recruits than ever before."

"Yes." He was right, she realized. Everything he said was true, and Hermione knew Dumbledore was smart enough to predict all of it. "But it's not like he had a choice. He was making the best of a bad situation, and unlike most people, could see the positive side even in such horrible conditions." That made her feel a little better. It wasn't as if Dumbledore had had a _choice_ about it.

But she could tell when his lip curled that Snape wasn't done. "Oh yes, he certainly made the most of things when the prophecy concerning Potter landed right in his lap." His voice was truly bitter now.

"What do you mean?" Hermione wasn't sure she really wanted to know, however.

"Only that he chose to leak part of the prophecy to the Dark Lord."

"What?"

"Through me, naturally." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs and smiling darkly. "You mean he didn't tell you? Tut, tut. It really is the ultimate proof that I am loyal to the Order, you see. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was deeply ashamed by his decision to leak the prophecy and has neglected to mention his role in it to hardly anyone at all. Of course, then the Order might've had a solid reason to trust me, and he couldn't have that." Hermione found she was speechless, and merely listened on in morbid curiosity. She remembered Harry saying that Snape was the one who had leaked the information. But Dumbledore had said Snape was still working for Voldemort at the time…

"You see, I heard the entire prophecy, along with Dumbledore all those years ago. The first half of the prophecy told of an unborn child who alone could defeat the Dark Lord, along with a description detailed enough to narrow that child down to two candidates…Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. Only the second half of the prophecy tells us that the Dark Lord would mark the child as his equal, and that one of them had to die at the other's hands. Dumbledore thought that if the Dark Lord was only given the first half of the prophecy, he would unwittingly "mark" either Potter or Longbottom, at which point Dumbledore could swoop in and spirit that child away with the sure knowledge that they had the power to someday defeat the Dark Lord."

"But, you're saying he used the Potters and Longbottoms as bait! Dumbledore wouldn't have done that! He wouldn't." Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to hear anymore, yet craving an explanation for such a callous move on Dumbledore's part.

"Oh, they weren't in any real danger. Not any more so than any other members of the Order, of course. I, being the one to tell the Dark Lord about the prophecy, was ideally positioned to inform Dumbledore the moment the Dark Lord decided to go after one or the other. Which is what Dumbledore had planned. By leaking part of the prophecy, we essentially forced the Dark Lord's hand, knowing that he wouldn't sit idle with a threat like that hanging over his head. All we had to do was wait and see which child he would choose to go after, and thus "mark" as the one in the prophecy. Then the parents could go into hiding long before the Dark Lord actually got around to striking them down. That would leave us knowing who the prophecy referred to, while he would still be unsure. You can guess the rest of the story, of course. The Dark Lord chose to go after the Potters. I warned Dumbledore, who sent them into hiding. And if they hadn't chosen Pettigrew as their secret keeper, they might still be alive today."

Hermione sat looking down at her hands, which were grasped firmly together, thinking over it all. It was so sad, how everything had turned out, with the Potters and the Longbottoms. Harry _had_ been marked, though not as Dumbledore had predicted. As had Neville, though not by Voldemort directly. The prophecy was probably why Neville's parents had been attacked, actually. The Lestranges probably knew enough about the prophecy, or at least knew that the Dark Lord had been deliberating between attacking the Potters and the Longbottoms for some reason. And so they had assumed the Longbottoms might know what had happened when he attacked the Potters... She gave an inward shudder. It was horrible, really. But it made perfect sense, and she felt resigned that Dumbledore had been much trickier, even Slytherin in nature, than she'd ever realized. _Of course_, she thought, _being able to think like your enemy is a great help in defeating them._

She met Snape's cold gaze. He had been sitting watching her silently, probably waiting to see how she would react. "It all makes sense." She said quietly. "And I suppose you really don't have any reason to lie to me." She was tempted to ask him why he had told all of this, but thought better of it. In any case, she realized, it wasn't as though he was putting himself in any more danger by telling her. She already had more than enough information to destroy him with, if it were leaked to the right people. This was a chilling thought for her, and so far she had avoided thinking about it.

She supposed that when it came down to it, Snape finally had someone he could tell. The only other person who had known the truth about his role in leaking the prophecy to Voldemort was now dead. And thinking on that…surely Snape was still dealing with Dumbledore's death on some level? Perhaps this was a roundabout way of talking about Dumbledore to someone, while at the same time distancing himself from the man. Now Snape wasn't the only one carrying Dumbledore's secret, and maybe that was a relief for him.

His velvet voice lifted her from her thoughts. "I'm afraid I've given you another secret to protect." She wondered briefly if he had been following her thoughts, and decided against it. She met his eyes again, which were slightly hooded now, and glittered strangely in the moving shadows of the flickering lamp lights.

"I think this is enough for tonight, Miss Granger. Between now and our next meeting, I want you to practice draining your mind of emotion and concentrating on one thought only. Something simple, like a drop of water should suffice. Fix it in your mind's eye until you can see it clearly; the way it reflects and refracts light, its shape, color- everything about it. Do not let any other thoughts intrude on your focus. You must be calm when doing this, since emotions can trigger memories, which can lead to your being swept away by a meaningless train of thoughts. Remember Miss Granger that mastering your own mind is the first step toward deflecting or cleverly diverting another's." His voice was low and melodious, lulling her, and she realized that it must be quite late, or early, rather, and she'd only had a few hours of sleep that night.

She blinked a few times and nodded. "I'll practice as often as I can. Professor…" It sounded strange calling him that after all she had learned, since now his role as spy superseded his role as a Professor. "I was wondering if there was a signal I could give you using the mensavoco charm if I couldn't come to a meeting, since I patrol as a member of the Order, and my patrol time can be changed around and is never set too far in advance anyway…" She paused for breath.

"Four taps should suffice. Meaning, you are not in danger, but can't attend." He gave her a look that said, 'And you'd better not even _think_ of abusing this power…' He got up from his chair, and took out his wand. "Evanesco." The chair disappeared. "It will be a few days at least until our next meeting, Miss Granger. Until then…" He gave a short nod and, picking up his book, was gone.

Hermione stared at the spot he'd vacated for a moment, then shook herself and proceeded to destroy all evidence of their presence in the room. An hour later saw her snuggled back in bed at 12 Grimmauld Place. She'd thought to get a note of the address from the secret keeper a few days ago, in preparation for their meeting, since she didn't fancy another sleep in the library. Unfortunately, by the time she fell asleep it would be nearly time for her to get up again. She sighed sleepily into her pillow. They really needed to meet earlier. Or have shorter meetings.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's Note: Hi again. I'd like to say thanks to anybody who has taken the time to review! It's very much appreciated. Woohoo, another chapter, and a bit longer this time too. The more I write, the more enjoyable it gets. This chapter was certainly the most fun I've had so far. I hope you're enjoying it.


	4. Bloody Goblet

**Double Life **

**Chapter Four**

Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yak, yak, yak. I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.

**Please Note**: I've raised the rating to TEEN because of this chapter. There's nothing too gross, I don't think…but it probably does deserve this rating. Better safe than sorry, in any case!

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Previous Chapter:

"It will be a few days at least until our next meeting, Miss Granger. Until then…" He gave a short nod and, picking up his book, was gone.

Hermione stared at the spot he'd vacated for a moment, then shook herself and proceeded to destroy all evidence of their presence in the room. An hour later saw her snuggled back in bed at 12 Grimmauld Place. She'd thought to get a note of the address from the secret keeper a few days ago, in preparation for their meeting, since she didn't fancy another sleep in the library. Unfortunately, by the time she fell asleep it would be nearly time for her to get up again. She sighed sleepily into her pillow. They really needed to meet earlier. Or have shorter meetings.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Chapter Four: Bloody Goblet**

"Nagini." Blood red eyes looked away from the window, where the black night held them for several minutes. His familiar could sense the distress radiating off her master, and had slowly wound her way up one of his legs to gain his attention. There had been a nightmare a short while ago, though not his own. It was perhaps more disturbing for him, however, than for the dreamer.

Voldemort rarely slept, actually. He wasn't human enough anymore to need much of it, or crave it as others did. Over time he had developed a fear of being in a state so similar to death: unaware of his body, incapable of defending himself during these necessary yet terrifying periods of rest. His greatest fear was death.

He hadn't dreamt in years, or if he did, he didn't remember them. He found he didn't miss it, and actually thought himself superior for rising above that entrapment of sleep altogether. The idea that normal people needed to dream in order to function properly was a Muggle concept he had picked up in his childhood.

So Voldemort was awake when this nightmare came. The Potter boy, whose mind he had partial access to through dreams and emotions, had unconsciously thrown out a flare of panic. Curious at what had caused it, and half amused by the possibility that it could involve _him_, Lord Voldemort had perused Harry's subconscious mind (his conscious mind was much harder to access as the boy had barriers he instinctually held in place while awake), and wandered into a nightmare. Voldemort's amusement had quickly fled as he was shown a dark cave, inferi, and goblets of green potion being forced down a Meddling Old Fool's throat. He broke the connection, his own panic rising.

Voldemort had jumped up from his chair and paced rapidly back and forth, controlling the urge to kill something as his fear quickly turned to blind rage. A few minutes passed before he made his way to the window, cooled down enough to think. He had _known_ Dumbledore was searching for the horcruxes, of course. When his Death Eaters informed him of the old man's blackened hand and the ring attached, Voldemort, enraged at first, had quickly realized Dumbledore had the information to deduce the existence of the horcruxes for some time. The fact that the Dark Lord had been nearly destroyed, yet _hadn't died_ sixteen years ago, was an obvious hint. The diary incident, in which the Chamber of Secrets was opened, had been another.

Dumbledore would have been certain Voldemort was Slytherin's heir, after the diary was let loose. The meddling old fool had already suspected as much when Riddle was a student all those years ago, and had opened the Chamber then. This confirmed, finding the horcrux in Slytherin's ring would've been a simple matter of tracing the Slytherin line down to Marvolo Gaunt, his grandfather.

The Dark Lord grimaced, and placed the finger of his right hand on the window pane. _But how did the dead fool find his mother's locket?_ It had been well hidden, unlike the ring. Over time Voldemort had grown more cautious, more thoughtful about how to protect the pieces of his soul. _Yet Potter and the Dead Man had visited the cave._ He let his hand drop from the window. The locket had probably been destroyed, though Potter's dream didn't show it, or its destruction, directly. He let out a quiet sigh, accepting it as lost, and turned his focus toward the others. He had thought the remaining horcruxes safe, but with the locket found, it was imperative the rest were moved as soon as possible.

He absently followed the length of Nagini's sinuous body with his eyes, thinking. The first horcrux to move was the Hufflepuff goblet, since he originally got it, along with the locket, from that doddering old woman (who horded things of value she didn't have the capacity to fully appreciate), and there was a possibility that she was the lead Dumbledore had followed. Voldemort would plan the goblet's relocation tonight. His hand clenched. Assuming it was still there to be moved.

He turned completely away from the window, and reached down with gaunt white hands to delicately pull Nagini from his leg. It was a strangely loving gesture from one who so little understood the concept. Voldemort then strode back toward the center of the room, which was a study of sorts, and sat down to further deliberate on his course of action. Later that night he called one of his most trusted servants to him for a short while, and gave him precise instructions.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione was dead asleep when the mensavoco charm woke her. She blinked at the ceiling for a few moments in puzzlement, knowing something wasn't right. She'd only just had a lesson (her fourth) with Snape the previous night, and he always waited at least a few days before calling her again. He was also, for the first time, using the two-tap signal, which meant she was to port herself to him as soon as she could. Fortunately it wasn't the panic call, which would've been a continual ringing in her ears, so she didn't feel guilty taking time getting properly ready before going to him.

Yawning, (it was half past three in the morning) Hermione silently climbed out of bed and began to change clothes. Fortunately she was relatively well rested, having turned in early that evening to catch up on missed sleep from their previous meeting. She frowned to herself while pulling her shirt over her head. _I wonder what's going on._ Perhaps Snape had urgent information, and she would have to jump into her role of message carrier earlier than planned? She hoped not. Her Occlumency lessons were going well, all things considered, but he'd said it would be several more weeks before she would be ready to inform the Order about her source. Before that, she wouldn't have the ability to protect his identity, as some members of the Order were rather well established Legilimens in their own right.

In the meantime, Snape was still passing her information, but only that which could be explained away with her visits to the library. This meant that times and places of Death Eater attacks, or Voldemort's future plans would have to wait. This didn't stop her from discussing her "library research" with Harry and Ron concerning the nature and types of protections Voldemort had used on the previous horcruxes, of course. Snape knew a great deal about them, especially the locket. So Hermione had suggested to Harry and Ron how Voldemort _might've_ spelled the basin to force someone to drink from it. She had talked about what the green potion _might've_ been, along with how and why Voldemort required blood to gain entrance. Harry and Ron, showing their characteristic lack of interest in books, hadn't asked any uncomfortable questions on where exactly she'd read all of this. She grinned to herself while tying her shoes. They were very impressed with her "research," and it was going to her head just a bit. Naturally, she'd been working extra hard at Occlumency to hide this fact from Snape, knowing he'd bring her ego back down to Earth in no time. If she couldn't be praised for telling them what she was _really_ up to, it was still rather nice to receive praise for something. The real point, of course, was to be prepared for dealing with the remaining horcruxes once they located them.

Hermione paused after throwing on her cloak. Perhaps she ought to nick Harry's invisibility cloak again? She hadn't used it since their first meeting, but Snape had never called her to him before. Thinking the cloak might be useful, she took out her wand and cast a do-not-notice charm on herself (a very useful charm she'd practiced up on after beginning her lessons with Snape). A few moments later she was creaking open Harry's door.

Hermione glanced over to make sure Harry was asleep. He looked miserable, she noted sadly. His face was drawn and unhappy, and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His sleep was clearly troubled. He had been looking more worn out for maybe a week now, and she'd suspected he wasn't sleeping well again. _The shock's probably just worn off, and now he's processing what's happened._ She'd had a few nightmares herself, about Bill, and the Death Eaters from that night. The Occlumency had helped tremendously, though, and she'd been nightmare free for over a week now. She frowned as she crouched down to look for the cloak, a nasty thought occurring to her. She hoped Harry's dreams were the normal sort, and that Voldemort wasn't giving him "visions" again, as he had done in Harry's fifth year. _Though_, she thought,_ the kinds of nightmares he must have are quite horrible enough_. Hermione retrieved the cloak and quietly left to return to her own room, thinking about Harry along the way.

She had attempted, a few times, to quietly encourage him to resume his study of Occlumency, but as with anything Harry strongly associated with Snape, his reaction was violently negative. Of course, the feeling was still reciprocated, as she'd discovered in her lessons with Snape. _Idiot men!_ She couldn't comprehend their unreasoning hatred for one another. Well. Harry thought he had a good reason now, but even before Dumbledore's death, the animosity had been rampant. And now, of course, he thought his feelings, past and present, were justified.

"It was instinct," he would say. "Something in me just _knew_ the git couldn't be trusted."

Harry was spending far too much time these days devising ways to make Snape suffer, some of which he shared with her and Ron, and some of which, she suspected, he kept secret. In fact, she also suspected Voldemort might even have taken second place to Snape on Harry's personal list of most loathsome people. It was horrible when the conversation turned to plans for revenge on Snape, since every time it did, she could feel something inside her gut twist a bit further.

She had even warned Snape two lessons ago; had actually asked him to avoid Harry in particular, if they should meet in a fight. He had just laughed at her.

"Potter still yells his spells _out loud_. Do you know how much time that gives me to react?"

He had then told her "the boy" absolutely _had_ to master silent spell casting (or more specifically, hex casting) if he wanted to have a ghost of a chance against the Dark Lord, and that Harry had survived up to now on "dumb luck." Snape had also reminded her that a skilled Legilimens, such as the Dark Lord, along with being able to tell when a person was lying through mere eye contact could also read when a person was about to attack. This had hardened Hermione's resolution to _somehow_ get Harry practicing Occlumency again.

She sighed, shaking these thoughts away as she slipped back inside her room. She didn't have time to worry about all of that right now. Snape was calling her, and if the unexpected timing was any indication, it was important. With nothing else keeping her, Hermione went about spelling a Mensavoco Portkey. She used a sickle as the Key, and a moment later, invisibility cloak draped over one shoulder, she was whisked away to places unknown.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Snape was standing, arms crossed and wand lit, when she arrived. The trip had taken a few moments, and she had the feeling she'd gone a fair distance. They were outdoors, in what looked like the middle of a grassy field, though she only had the light of his wand to go by. The night was pitch black.

"Lumos." She lit her own wand, put away the port key, and waited for him speak. His eyes, lit by their combined wandlight, were unsettling. There was a certain cold detachedness there, with just a hint of excitement glittering in the depths. The more he buried things, the more dangerous a situation tended to be.

"Professor." She greeted him, waiting to be filled in.

"Miss Granger. Follow me." He fell silent, turned, and began walking. She hurried to keep up, noting that they were on a slight upward incline. The field they were in felt quite empty to her, and she guessed they were in the middle of nowhere.

"Professor…what's going on, and where are we? Sir?"

It was a moment before he answered, and with quite a bombshell. "I've located a horcrux." _Oh my._

"Do you want me to go to the Order?" She didn't think so, somehow.

He glanced at her sideways. "You can't. We don't have time, and you aren't prepared in any case. The Dark Lord will be coming here to retrieve it hours from now. We have to take it ourselves, now." He glanced over again, dark humor painting his voice. "I trust you feel up to the task?"

"I…" She fell silent, eyes wide, and looked off into the darkness. Truth be told, this was…a bit more than she had bargained for. Although to be fair, she had been prepared to help Harry when the time came, and really, Snape was so much better qualified for this sort of thing. And now was as good a time as any, she realized.

Snape continued talking again, having waited for that look of resolution, the one where Hermione showcased the much vaunted "look of Gryffindor bravery," before doing so. "As to where this is, we are on the edge of an anti-apparition barrier, surrounding the ruins of Helga Hufflepuff's castle Harloch, located in the middle of Wales." He smirked, and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you've read of it?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Yes, she'd read about it. Harloch was a very famous castle. It had literally gone missing about half a century ago, which is quite a hard thing for a castle to do, and had become quite a mystery as a result. It was believed that when Hephzibah Smith, who was the last remaining descendant of Helga Hufflepuff, had passed away, an ancient spell was triggered to protect the castle from unwelcome strangers. Harloch had always been unplottable, as were most wizardizing castles, but half a century ago it had disappeared so thoroughly, scholars debated whether there was something akin to a Fidelius charm in place. Hermione had always thought it strange, however, for Helga Hufflepuff, the most open of the four founders, to go to such extremes to close off her old castle. She looked over to answer Snape's question.

"I have read of it. Was You-Know-Who the one to hide the castle, then?" She struggled to keep up with his longer strides, waiting for an answer.

"Yes. He used a Fidelius charm, making himself the Secret Keeper." He glanced over at her, and she could just make out his sardonic smirk. "Less than an hour ago, he told me the castle's location, with instructions to meet him here tomorrow evening." They walked in silence a moment before he continued. "Thus we are forced to act tonight."

Hermione cut in. "If it isn't there when he checks on it, he'll think Dumbledore took it. Is that it?"

"Exactly. The perfect cover. He hasn't told me directly about the horcruxes yet, though I suspect he will tomorrow. I shall be properly surprised and will give no sign of having been here before, of course. With luck, he'll have me help with re-hiding the remaining horcruxes." _And without it you'll be dead_, Hermione thought. She pushed the thought away.

"Is this one well protected, Professor?" She didn't want to have Harry's nightmares, if she could help it.

"Not as much so as the locket, I think. Neither of us should have to die, if we're careful." A very subtle, dark amusement twined its way through that sentence. "I believe he created this one shortly after Slytherin's ring, and most of the protections surrounding that are triggered when you attempt to destroy it. We will simply be retrieving Hufflepuff's goblet tonight. You will keep it and hand it over to the Order to be destroyed at a later time." _Assuming nothing goes horribly wrong_, he added to himself. Snape paused. He needed to lay down a few ground rules before they reached the castle.

He stopped and stared down at Hermione, making sure he had her absolute attention. "This is still extremely dangerous, however, so you will do exactly as I say, when I say it. You will not touch anything, not even the walls." He frowned down at her. "Do you understand, Miss Granger?"

"Yes." Her jaw was firm, eyes serious. She understood the danger. They continued on in silence, and soon they came upon a courtyard, which they crossed. Moments later they were entering the castle proper. As they walked inside, Hermione imagined she felt something malevolent in the air. She watched as Snape went to the nearest wall and began walking slowly alongside it, muttering under his breath. He was searching for where to go next.

Perhaps fifteen minutes went by before he beckoned her to follow him through a doorway into another chamber, where he once again began exploring the walls. It was two rooms later when he paused and focused on a particular section for a few minutes. Then he grunted, turned on his heel, walked halfway across the room, then turned and went back again. He ran one hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. A few more minutes of mumbling went by, as he continued testing the wall for dark magic (Hermione assumed), finally running his hands along it, pausing at various places.

"Miss Granger." He looked over at her, and just barely avoided her eyes, curiously enough. "One of us needs to give blood." He looked ready to go on, but she interrupted.

"I'll do it, Professor. You can't afford to." As he had explained a few meetings ago, one reason Voldemort had for requiring blood for entry was to keep track of who had been there. A wizard's blood bore their signature, and with the proper knowledge and skill someone could find out exactly who a person was with a bit of their blood. If Voldemort found out Snape had already been here, his cover would be blown. It was perfectly plausible, however, that she could've accompanied Harry there, in search of the horcrux, at an earlier date.

Snape nodded to her, a little tension leaving his shoulders. He hadn't looked forward to coaxing her into giving a bit of her blood. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small knife. "I'll do it if you like."

Hermione grimaced. She held her left arm out to him after pulling up the shirt sleeve, and closed her eyes. She startled when he pulled the sleeve up a bit more, and bent her arm up at the elbow. She felt a sharp pain as he nicked her just above the elbow. He pulled her gently forward and quickly pressed her forearm against the wall. He drew her back from it after a moment, and holding her wrist with one hand, used a spell to seal up her cut. Dropping her arm, he turned back to the wall, and after a simple motion of his wand an opening appeared in it. He motioned her to follow as he moved slowly inside, and she hurriedly pulled her sleeve back in place, nervously following close behind.

There was the goblet, sitting on a pedestal in the center of the room. It was surprisingly small, the size of a small cup, and golden in color. Hermione thought it was quite attractive. The room was also small, perhaps only half the size of her bedroom (which wasn't particularly large) and square. The walls were made of the same stone as the rest of the castle.

"Stay by the door." Snape started muttering under his breath once again, and moved slowly toward the goblet. She watched as he went through what sounded like several spells in several different languages, and thought to herself about how much more she truly had to learn. Though she doubted she'd ever want the depth of knowledge Snape clearly possessed about the Dark Arts. Minutes ticked by, and every once in a while she could actually feel a surge in magic surrounding the goblet, followed by a sudden drop off. She wanted to ask Snape what he was doing, but was afraid of distracting him. She guessed that he was probably checking for various wards and dismantling them. That would explain the occasional swells in magic that quickly died away.

Hermione's attention drifted back to the goblet, shining seemingly with its own inner light. It looked so unprotected, like she could just reach out and grab it. It was a pity it had to be destroyed. It was a historical heirloom, a priceless treasure, after all. She took a step forward, and caught herself. What was she doing? She looked back to Snape, who didn't seem to notice. For a moment there, she'd been on the verge of walking over and grabbing the thing, of all the ridiculous and dangerous things to do.

"Miss Granger." She looked up guiltily.

"Yes?" He was still focused on the goblet, and was speaking with his back to her.

He turned halfway toward her, eyes never leaving the goblet. "I want you to come forward and reach out as if you mean to grab the goblet. Do not by any means _touch_ it, however." He spared her a brief warning glance. She nodded to him, and he moved to the side, wand raised.

She came forward and tentatively reached her right hand out as if to grab it.

"Stay right there." Her hand was only a few inches away. She let out a slow, silent breath. How long would she have to stand like this? He was back to murmuring under his breath. After a few moments he began slowly circling her and the goblet. Occasionally she would see glimpses of a pattern in the air of sorts, weaving around the goblet. It was delicate and subtle, like very fine strands of golden hair, or a spider's web. Was this Snape's work, or Voldemort's?

She shifted her weight to the other foot, her hand moving slightly, and her mind suddenly screamed at her. _The goblet! It's right in front of you! Take it, it's yours, you know it needs to be destroyed…_

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione had reached out and grasped the goblet, much to her own surprise. Agony erupted inside her head, and her surroundings faded away, to be replaced with horrible thoughts, crowding in around her. Memories were surfacing in quick succession, distorted and mangled, though she didn't realize it. They told her she was a horrible person who destroyed everything she touched. _And now you want to destroy a priceless heirloom_, her mind told her, _to melt it down, twist it up, shatter it into a thousand pieces. You're a despicable person_. Enormous guilt welled up inside of her, and the pain in her head increased, along with a sense of terrible weakness. Was she standing, sitting? She didn't know, but she didn't think her legs could support her. Sadness and guilt overwhelmed her as the horrible thoughts and memories pulled her into their depths. As she was pulled down, it vaguely occurred to her she might be dying. But it didn't matter, she thought. Someone like her deserved to die.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Snape reacted immediately when he saw Hermione go for the goblet. _Damn!_ He hadn't paid close enough attention to her, focusing instead on the goblet. He tried a few spells in quick succession to determine what had happened. They confirmed that there was no way, short of chopping off her hand, to separate her from the goblet. He watched with a growing sense of dread as the goblet began filling with a dark liquid. Her blood, he realized, as Hermione fell to her knees, still clutching the goblet, and still in a trance. _Bloody hell!_

His mind raced furiously. He'd already dismantled most of the wards surrounding the goblet, and was focusing on the magic imbued in the goblet itself when Hermione had grasped it. This was clearly the goblet's magic at work, with a few of the Dark Lord's twists added in; no spell of Hufflepuff's would drain a person's blood. The goblet did have built in protections, however, which he guessed dissuaded the person from their original intention, so it probably triggered the trance. Knowing Helga Hufflepuff, its purpose was to convince the person that they were wrong to destroy the goblet, probably by bringing up guilty thoughts and memories, and only released them when it sensed their mind had changed. The Dark Lord would've twisted its nature, he was sure. But how?

The goblet began to overfill, and blood started splashing on the floor. He took half a step backward, and ruthlessly quelled the urge to panic. The blood, he realized, had started to appear several moments after she picked up the goblet, and it was initially filling much more slowly; so the Dark Lord's spell began working after Hufflepuff's, and grew more powerful over time. He ground his teeth. Hermione's hand was shaking violently by now, and her lips were beginning to turn blue. If he could just break the trance! He thought that might stop this spell, which was clearly based on Hufflepuff's preexisting magic. There was only one way to do that; he had to get into her head.

Snape stepped forward, knelt down, and grasped Hermione by the shoulders. The smell of blood was disgusting, but he'd smelled worse, and he didn't have time to worry about it. She was barely sitting now, her eyes closed. He pointed his wand briefly at her face and muttered a spell. Her eyes, now sunken, shot open and locked with his own. He immediately flew into her mind.

Guilt. She felt overwhelmingly guilty. _For what?_ Destroying things. Everything. She wanted to destroy the goblet. _Ah_. He forced his own voice into her thoughts. _No you don't. You want to destroy the horcrux. Granger…Hermione! You have no intention of destroying the goblet!_ He let more of his mind seep into her own, increasing the power of his presence. He gave her a huge mental shake_. Listen to me! You are to do as I say, remember? _ He grasped at a fleeting thought of her own. _You think the goblet is beautiful; you want to study it, preserve it! It's a "historical heirloom of the House of Hufflepuff", remember?_

_Heirloom_… Her inner voice was distant, but she was listening. He had to convince her that the horcrux and the goblet were completely separate, a white lie that could save her life. For he realized how the Dark Lord's spell worked. Hermione associated the goblet with the horcrux, something that had to be destroyed, and this association was triggering Hufflepuff's spell.

_The goblet has nothing to do with the horcrux, Hermione._ He called out her first name, because he was inside her head, and she didn't think of herself as 'Granger'. _Listen to me. You are protecting the goblet; you are preserving it. This is the truth. Repeat it to me! You are _protecting_ the goblet…_

_Protecting it…_her mind was momentarily distracted from the guilt, and had just now acknowledged his presence. She was talking to him now._ Professor…of course…it's…beautiful, isn't it…?_

_Yes! And you want to protect it, Hermione._

_No…_she paused, and he could feel the cloud descending again._ I'm…_

_You are a wonderful human being! If you weren't in Gryffindor, you'd be in Hufflepuff! You appreciate the goblet, you want to protect it. You are one of the few people who _can_ truly appreciate it… _Her mind brightened at the praise, and he continued on feverishly. Just a bit more and she'd break free…

_Hermione…you are strong and brave, compassionate…_he grasped at another memory as it flew past_…remember the house elves. You alone care about them, you have to protect them too…and your friends Harry and Ron _(normally he'd cringe at what he was saying, but these were extenuating circumstances_). They need you too…you are working to save the lives of innocents…_he could feel the spell growing weaker…

Another memory surfaced, and he grasped at it_…think of your parents, they're _MugglesHe felt her react, the spell weakening further, and he poured as much strength into his thoughts as he could._ Your parents don't even comprehend the danger they're in; without you, they're helpless! It's your _duty_ to protect them…_

That did it. He could actually feel something break as her mind broke completely free of the trance, and came up through the layers of memory surrounding her. He pulled her up and out, more than eager to leave her mind and check on the damage outside. She hadn't fainted yet, so she couldn't be too far gone...

He was once again aware of his surroundings. The smell came to him first, and looking down, he realized they were both soaked in her blood. The urge to gag rose suddenly, catching him by surprise, but he ruthlessly pushed it down. He was still holding Hermione up by the arms, and was relieved to see she had dropped the goblet, something she couldn't have done if the spell was still in effect. He let her down to the ground gently, and pulling out a length of dragon hide he had in his robes, carefully wrapped up the goblet, being sure not to touch it in the process. Stowing it in his robes, her turned back to Hermione and carefully picked her up. She looked horrible; her lips were blue, eyes sunken, skin pale and taut. She literally _looked_ drained. He estimated she had lost easily over a gallon of blood. He had to get her out of here now if she was going to live through this.

But first…he had to clean the place up. It couldn't look like someone had been here _too_ recently. He used a spell to clean their robes, though he didn't have a hope of removing the blood completely. He took special care not to leave any obvious foot prints- no need for the Dark Lord to recognize his shoe- as he moved away from the puddle of blood, then dried the bottom of his shoes. _Nearly done_, he thought, and crouched down to dip Hermione's hand in the blood. He'd need it to get back out. Standing up, he cast a drying spell on the floor, and watched as the blood changed color from dark red to dark brown. Aging it would've been better, but he didn't have the time (ironically) and the Dark Lord shouldn't notice. It would _look_ old, after all.

He walked back to the entrance, which had closed, and ran Hermione's limp hand along it. A moment later they were through the entrance, and only a few minutes after that he was out of the castle. She had fallen unconscious, and her breathing was growing more labored. He didn't have much time. Holding her more closely, he quickened his pace away from the castle. The sky, he realized, was just barely starting to lighten, and in perhaps an hour the sun would rise. Unfortunately they had to apparate east. He paused, wondering if she might've brought the invisibility cloak. Checking with one hand, he felt the distinctive material in one of her pockets, and pulled it out. Finally a bit of luck!

A few minutes later he reached the edge of the barrier, and put Hermione down. He couldn't send her straight home as she was; she'd probably be dead before anyone discovered her. Thankfully Wormtail was no longer living with him, so it should be safe to bring her there.

"Enervate." She came painfully awake, moaning, and he had to pull her up into a sitting position to prevent her from immediately going under again.

"Hermione. I need you to concentrate on apparating. Just for a few seconds, then you can go back to sleep. Do you understand?" She looked miserable, and he thought she would be crying if she had any tears to spare.

"Y-yes." Her voice was like whispering paper, and her head dropped forward. He leaned toward her and supported her head with one hand, lifting it back up.

"We'll go on the count of three. Hermione! You _must_ do this, you life depends on it!" She looked up at him, silent, but her eyes told him she understood. Using one hand, he awkwardly threw the invisibility cloak around them.

"One. Two." He held her eyes. "Three." And a moment later they were in the street near his home. Wasting no time, he scooped her up again and headed down the street. It was still relatively dark, though as he'd predicted, the sun would be up very soon. Hermione, who felt like a rag doll in his arms, had already fallen back unconscious, and he picked up his pace to a jog.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione was swimming in the lake at Hogwarts alongside the giant squid, who was making fun of her hair in a very Snape-ish voice. It was clinging to her as it always did when wet, but now it was actually weighing her down, making it so _hard_ for her to swim. _This is ridiculous_, she thought. She needed a haircut! Every stroke was agonizing; her muscles burned and her arms shook from fatigue. But she had to keep swimming or she'd drown. And the stupid squid was still making fun of her. Suddenly she felt something wrap itself around her ankle, and she was being pulled down, down, deep under the lake…

"Gah…" Hermione tried to sit up, spluttering, but found she was too weak. Something had been pouring down her throat, burning it. She broke into a dry cough, and felt someone press a glass to her parched lips.

"Drink." She did so, gulping down a cool liquid that washed away the burning gunk from a moment before. It was just water, but right then nothing had ever tasted so good. She realized, with an inward groan, that her dream wasn't entirely imagination: she still felt like she'd run a marathon, or maybe three.

"What happened?" She croaked out, looking up. Sure enough, there was Snape with a glass of water in his hand. She appeared to be lying on an old couch, and he was kneeling next to her. Actually, she had known it was Snape before opening her eyes; he had been the evil squid in her dream.

"First, you need to drink this. I'm only half done saving your life, Granger." _Well, I must be out of danger at least_. His sardonic tones were strangely calming in their familiarity. She closed her eyes and let him put another glass to her mouth.

"This will burn. It's what woke you up." _Your drowning me is what woke me up, _she thought to herself. It did burn, and she had to concentrate on not coughing as she drank it down. Whatever the guck was, it was very concentrated, and she could feel it doing strange things in her stomach. She lay back after drinking it.

"Now, what happened?" She was remembering a few things now, but really it just a big wave of pain after she…after…

"Why did I pick up the goblet?" She could hear him doing something nearby, probably mixing up some more guck to pour down her throat. She supposed she should be thankful. Probably.

"There was a spell designed to attract whoever gave blood on the way in toward the goblet. I imagine it works on everyone other than the Dark Lord himself. I presume you felt a strong urge to reach out and grab it?"

"Yes." She paused, but couldn't stop herself asking. "Did you know, when you had me stand that close to it?" She wished she could've taken the words back the second she said them. The look of surprised hurt in his face, which was covered by anger almost instantly, said it all. They locked gazes for a moment, until she looked down, feeling ashamed.

"No, Miss Granger. I didn't know." His quiet voice dripped acid.

Hermione's lip quivered and her eyes burned. "I'm sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. Of course you wouldn't use me like that." She found she couldn't look back up. She berated herself for getting worked up so easily, forgetting about how shock tended to do strange things to people. She wasn't usually this emotional! A moment later, Snape pressed the glass, full once again, into her right hand and held it there.

"Drink." He helped her, which was a good thing, since her entire arm felt like lead and she probably would've spilled the stuff all down her front on her own. It was water again, thankfully. This time she drank more slowly. He spoke as she drank, explaining what had happened after she had touched the goblet. The time she had spent in the trance was a complete blur, though she did remember the intense feeling of guilt, now like a dream to her. Getting her out of it, he'd said, was a matter of satisfying the spell left by Hufflepuff to protect the goblet. It had to be convinced that she wasn't trying to harm the goblet. When that spell fell dormant, Voldemort's protection, which was built on top of Hufflepuff's, stopped functioning as well.

So she'd lost a _lot_ of blood. That explained her symptoms perfectly. Though, to Snape's credit, she was already feeling immensely better than she had upon waking.

"Sir. Thank you for all of this." She made a tiny motion toward his tray of potions, which she could see now, as she had sat up during his explanation about the goblet. "I'd be dead by now if it wasn't for you."

He gave her a tight smile, his trademark smirk just under the surface. "You'd be at home, asleep if it wasn't for me, Miss Granger." Hmm. That wasn't what he was supposed to say. She decided to correct him.

"If it wasn't for Dumbledore, you mean."

"I could've obliviated you that first night, Miss Granger." This annoyed her, so she did what annoyed him, and poured forth joyful optimism.

"Well, you didn't, and now we've got a horcrux, so I guess things worked out for the best!" She leaned back on the couch and grinned at his sour expression. He was such a cynic.

"You sound like Dumbledore now."

"I'll take that as a compliment." She closed her eyes, feeling drained. Literally. She giggled. Snape ignored her, and went back to his chemistry set. She realized she was falling asleep, which was probably a good thing, because otherwise she'd start telling knock-knock jokes to Snape and he'd give her the "evil eye," if ever there was one. She snorted.

Alas! Sweet sleep was not meant to be (well, she _had_ just been compared to Dumbledore) as Snape tugged her upright again and pressed yet another drink into her hands.

"Drink this, you little dingbat." The last bit was muttered, but she thought it was rather affectionate. For him, anyway. She drained the glass and handed it back, still smiling.

"Did you give me something funny? I feel awfully goofy, you know."

"No, that would be entirely you, Miss Granger, air-headed optimism and all." She sighed and leaned back again.

"Where are we?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and waved an arm vaguely about.

"Welcome to my humble abode." He paused. "A place I've managed to avoid, for the most part, for last sixteen years." He started preparing her another drink of the potion that burned her throat. She looked around a bit more carefully. She would've spent most of her time at Hogwarts too, if this was the alternative. She'd never tell Snape that, of course. A moment later he handed over the burning concoction, which was a murky brown color, and she started drinking it down.

"Speaking of home, it's getting late and you need to be going back. The sun's been up for a while by now." She blinked, partly from the drink and partly from surprise.

"How long was I out?"

"About forty-five minutes. And we've been talking for some time. When you get back, pretend that you've caught a nasty bug. That'll explain sleeping in late, because you _will_ need the sleep." He smirked. That was blatantly obvious, as she was only awake now by sheer willpower. "You'll need to drink liquids of all sorts today: fruit juice, water, milk, chicken broth. This evening you should eat a solid meal, but nothing too taxing on your digestion. No steak, for example."

He put down the tray and stood, looking down at her for a few moments. "You'll have to keep the goblet, I'm afraid. I've wrapped it in dragonhide, and I've found a small box for you to keep it in. It has a rather useful lock you can spell to an individual's wand. He left the room for a moment and came back holding a small dark wooden box. Hermione thought it looked a bit like a miniature treasure chest. There was a keyhole, and she watched as Snape put his wand inside and twisted it, as if the wand was a key. The chest fell open, and she could see the dragonhide wrapped goblet already placed firmly inside. The urge to touch it was completely gone.

"Take out your wand." She did so, and he took it from her, placing it in the keyhole. A few moments passed by as he spelled the chest to take her wand, and then he handed it back.

"Now, this will only open when your wand is used on it, by you." He closed the chest with a click.

"And now you must be going." He held a hand out to her, which she grasped with both of her own. After a moment she heaved herself up, seeing spots as she did so. He held her arm to steady her for a few moments, until things stopped spinning. He handed her the chest and, to her surprise, took the invisibility cloak out of a pocket and swung it around her, leaving only her face visible. They both paused. He seemed to tense up a bit.

"Miss Granger," he looked her in the eyes. "You were very brave tonight." She smiled. His sincere praise meant more to her than he'd ever know. She suddenly frowned with concern, thinking about what lay ahead for him.

"Be careful tonight, sir." She knew he'd been lying to Voldemort for years now, but the possibility that he could be found out was no less real, and it terrified her. He was braver than her by far; she couldn't imagine being in his position. And she resolved to tell him so. The very next time they met.

A moment later she grasped the port key sickle, and was back in her room. Tired though she was, she shrugged out of her clothes (which still smelled faintly of blood) and into her nightclothes. Stuffing the cloak, clothes, and chest deep under her bed, she finally crawled, aching all over, back under the covers, and fell asleep. She was dead tired.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's Note: Hey! I'm sorry this took a bit longer. I've started back to college, and I had to do some research for this chapter, and had to get all my ideas together and stuff like that. It wasn't too gross, I hope? I'd love to here what you guys think.

Thanks to my best friend Amy for her book of Celtic names and for helping me brainstorm on locations, along with the Harry Potter Lexicon, a veritable….er, lexicon of information! Harloch as actually a real castle somewhere in Wales, though it has no connection to this story. I just like the name!

Chapters will come a bit slower since I've started back to school. But…it's better than stopping altogether, right? Again, thank you for reading! I have to admit it's really so much fun posting stuff here. It's thrilling when I press the submit button. Yay! (I'm pathetic, I know.)


	5. Keeping the Cover

**Double Life **

**Chapter Five**

Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yak, yak, yak. I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Previous Chapter:

"And now you must be going." He held a hand out to her, which she grasped with both of her own. After a moment she heaved herself up, seeing spots as she did so. He held her arm to steady her for a few moments, until things stopped spinning. He handed her the chest and, to her surprise, took the invisibility cloak out of a pocket and swung it around her, leaving only her face visible. They both paused. He seemed to tense up a bit.

"Miss Granger," he looked her in the eyes. "You were very brave tonight." His sincere praise meant more to her than he'd ever know. She smiled briefly, and then frowned with concern.

"Be careful tonight, sir." She knew he'd been lying to Voldemort for years now, but the possibility that he could be found out was no less real, and it terrified her. He was braver than her by far; she couldn't imagine doing what he did. And she would tell him so. The next time they met.

A moment later she grasped the port key sickle, and was back in her room. Tired though she was, she shrugged out of her clothes (which still smelled faintly of blood) and into her nightclothes. Stuffing the cloak, clothes, and chest deep under her bed, she finally crawled, aching all over, back under the covers, and fell asleep. She was dead tired.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Chapter Five: Keeping the Cover

"Hermione, dear, you look horrible!" Molly Weasely's piercing voice reverberated through Hermione's skull. What was she doing? Didn't she know it was the middle of the night? She felt the covers being peeled back and made a half hearted effort to cover her face again. Failing that, she burrowed further into her pillow. Why was it so bright, anyway? A warm hand was placed on her forehead.

"Sweetheart, how do you feel? It's nearly eleven o'clock!" Hermione squinted her eyes, and blinked up at Mrs. Weasely a few times. _What is she talking abou…_ Then she remembered what had happened last night. Covering her surprise quite nicely, Hermione let out a small moan. "I think I've caught something. I've got a pounding headache (not so far from the truth, she was discovering), and I ache all over."

Concerned and slightly worried eyes gazed down at her. "It sounds like the flu! And it's because you've been overworking yourself, spending so much time doing research, and then out scouting for the Order!" Her lips quirked down slightly, betraying her disapproval. "Well, now you've got no choice but to relax until you get better." She started toward the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some soup."

Hermione called after her. "I don't know where we'd be without you, Mrs. Weasely. If it's not too much trouble, could you bring me a glass of water too? I'm parched." And she was, so much so that her throat was scratchy and hot. Snape wasn't kidding when he said she'd need to drink a lot, and she'd been asleep for several hours now. She snuggled back down, and pulled the covers over her head.

Oh bother. Now that she was up, certain…items were making her nervous. Had she done a good job hiding everything last night? Under her bed didn't seem so safe all of the sudden. What if Mrs. Weasely was seized with a fit of cleanliness? And…she still smelled faintly of blood. Ugh! Did she need a _bath_! She let out a sigh muffled by her covers. She should get a few things done before Mrs. Weasely returned…

"Hermione! How're you feeling? Mum told us you were up." She peeked out from under the covers, and there was Ron standing in the doorway, Harry not far behind. She pulled the covers down a bit more, and sat up a little. "Ouch, you really _do_ look bad. Not contagious, are you?" Ron grinned, and came over to sit down on the side of her bed.

Harry came over as well. "Thoughtful as ever, Ron, telling her she's unattractive and infectious." He smiled playfully.

Hermione decided to play along, and put on a distressed face. "Quite right, Harry." She turned to Ron. "Really, and when I'm not feeling well!" Her voice cracked on 'feeling', and they all laughed for a bit, the charade breaking down. Hermione's laugh turned into a rasping cough.

Ron spoke up a moment later. "You really do look sick, Hermione. That cough doesn't sound very good, and you're so pale. You've got the darkest bags under your eyes. I've never seen you look this tired."

"And that includes third year time stretching." Harry added.

Thank goodness she spent so much time at the library. "Well, I was doing research at the library last night, and I thought I'd found a lead. So I basically pulled an all nighter, though honestly, I…I could feel something nasty coming on. I decided my lead was more important, at the time." She let her voice grow slightly frustrated at the end.

Harry frowned, looking disappointed. "I take it you hit another dead end?"

"Unfortunately, yes." She looked down guiltily. She'd been hitting a lot of "dead ends" lately, with all the time spent with Snape.

"Woah, wait a second here." Ron was looking between them. "Harry, aren't you forgetting something? And you, Hermione? Your health comes first! You're our friend and we're worried about you. You spend too much time in that bloody library. Besides, you're no good to anybody if you let yourself get run down like this."

It was Harry's turn to look a bit sheepish. "He's right, Hermione…"

"Well, yes and no." She cut him off, not wanting to hear an apology. He had nothing to apologize for! "I should get more sleep, and eat properly and all of that, but this is _war_. If I had found something that could help us locate a horcrux, that would be paramount. Nevermind if I have to pull an all nighter, if lives are at stake. I couldn't stand it if I could've made a difference sooner rather than later, when lives are being lost in the interim."

Ron looked ready to argue the point, but Mrs. Weasely came back just then, tray in tow. Hermione sat up carefully to take the tray, and let out a little gasp. She was really sore! Mrs. Weasely noted her condition, and after the food was situated Hermione got treated to her own personal telling off by one distressed Mother Hen. "I couldn't help but overhear the last bit of that conversation, and I must say, you've got your priorities all mixed up! How do you expect to help anyone if you're stuck in bed with the flu? You've got to maintain your basic health first, that's just common sense! You aren't going near that library for a week! We've already had to reassign someone else to your patrol for tonight, or did you forget? Really, we're all stretched a bit thin right now, but there's no reason to be neglectful…" Oh boy. She could see Harry and Ron making a beeline for the door. Deserters!

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione tried not to feel guilty after the talk Mrs. Weasely gave her, but it was hard. If she knew what she'd really been up to...hoo boy. She'd really get it then. Of course, Mrs. Weasely would probably be out for Snape's blood before her own. Hermione smiled to herself, imagining Snape getting the same lecture she'd just gotten, and found she didn't feel so guilty anymore.

Then the humor went out of her in a flash. What was he doing right now? Preparing to meet with Lord Voldemort? Perhaps…going to what could be his death? If he let something slip tonight…or if there was a bit of his cloak left at the scene of the crime, a hair, anything that could give him away; if it was noticed by Voldemort, Snape would be...well. She refused to think about it. The frown she didn't know she had deepened as her thoughts moved to what was under her bed. A piece of…_him_. A shudder went through her, and she forcefully turned her thoughts elsewhere. Thinking about that wasn't any good either.

Mrs. Weasely had left her with a glass of water, orange juice, and another bowl of self heating soup (one of those tricks a mother of seven knows like the back of her hand). It had been two hours, and the water and most of the soup had been consumed. She needed a visit to the ladies' room, and had yet to remove all evidence of her late night tryst from under the bed. Harry, for instance, was bound to notice his cloak was missing sometime soon, and she couldn't very well have someone stumble across the chest with the goblet inside, even if they couldn't open it. She got out of bed, locked the door to her room, and pulled everything out from under the bed. She didn't have any really good place for the goblet, so…inside her suitcase would have to do. No one would stick their nose in there. Taking the suitcase out from the back of the closet, she jammed the little box tightly inside one of the zipping compartments, and then shoved the suitcase back in place.

Next was her clothing. She spread it out on the floor, and used one of the strongest cleaning charms she knew. "Scourgify!" The clothing erupted in bubbles, and she let them stew for several moments before drying them and placing them in the dirty clothes hamper. That should be good enough. She had been tempted to burn them, or dispose of them in some other way, but decided that would draw more attention in the long run. And burning would leave a smell. Speaking of which…

She needed a bath. The smell of blood, however faint, was starting to drive her crazy. Harry's cloak would have to wait. She gathered herself a change of clothing and the necessary toiletries, stuffed the cloak inside her pillow case (Harry definitely wouldn't look there), and took off for the bathroom.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lupin had just come from a late lunch downstairs and was heading toward his room. (He was staying at headquarters, along with Harry and his friends, and a few other members of the Order. Mrs. Weasely, for instance, seemed to be there as much as she was at home these days. Not that he minded.) Lupin was having a very good day. He and Tonks had shared a shift early last night, and afterward they'd gone out to eat. And talked for hours. It was a rare thing, getting an opportunity for a decent date, but when the occasion arose, it was cherished for a long time afterward. Their previous date had been over a month ago. Of course that had something to do with his "time of the month". Working around that and the demands of the Order could be quite challenging. But life was good, nonetheless. Sigh…that Chow Mein had been really good last night too…

Something pulled him out of his happy thoughts, and he paused. He could smell…blood. Had someone been injured? He followed his nose around the corner, and stopped abruptly, nearly running into Hermione Granger.

"Oh! Hello there, Herm…" He stared for a moment. It was her! Concern flared up inside him. He'd heard she was sick from Mrs. Weasely. Had she meant injured? He gave her a surreptitious once over. She looked whole enough…

"Oh hello Professor!" She took up the slack as if he hadn't dropped the second half of her name. Though, come to think of it, people did do that fairly often. "I'm just heading off for a bath. I'm, ahh…quite in need of one." She grinned, and made to get around him. He dropped a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, Hermione, I…are you injured? I though I smelled blood." It occurred to him that his sense of smell was rather more acute than the average person's. Perhaps no one else had noticed?

Her eyes widened and she stammered out a response. "N-no. I'm quite alright, aside from feeling under the water…weather, I mean. G-good bye Professor." With a petrified look, she continued on her way. What the devil was going…on. Oh no! Lupin turned pink. Was it her time of the month? He put his hands to his head in mortification. Damn his acute sense of smell! How utterly embarrassing. Face now red, he headed for the stairs and nearly started down them before he realized he was going the wrong way.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione locked the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it, trying to calm her racing heart. That was too close. Why did she freak out like that? Augh! She could've blown everything. She hoped Lupin wasn't suspicious, but then how couldn't he be? "Oh no, I'm fine Professor Lupin, I just normally smell like blood! I think it's quite an attractive odor myself!" Frowning, she started the bath water running. Her brain must have shriveled up from dehydration.

She sighed, and sat down next to the tub, listening to the running water. It wasn't a big deal, really. She just needed to come up with a good explanation for the smell in case he raised the issue again, and she'd be fine. She dipped her hand into the rising water, thinking. Snape had acknowledged that she was in a strange position. She wasn't acting as a spy, per se, but she did have to keep secrets from people who knew her very well. Therefore he had been giving her a few pointers, essentially, about being a good spy. She knew he'd be disappointed with her performance just know if he found out. _Best to bury this memory down very far, then._ She should've predicted that Lupin's question come up, and have thought up a cover story before leaving her room. Snape had said that it was essential to think ahead and predict as many possible questions and situations as you could in order to effectively maintain your cover. He said it was the situations you hadn't predicted that landed you in trouble.

"You never want to act spontaneously if you can help it, though not every situation can be predicted, of course. Sometimes very…regrettable decisions can be forced upon you when you are unprepared."

She had waited for him to move on, knowing he didn't mean for her to question further. She could guess from what he said that there were a few skeletons in his closet he didn't care to talk about. And she didn't care to be told. She'd gotten the point. Being able to think on your feet was very important, but being prepared so you didn't have to do as much of that was more so.

Hermione sighed again as she stood up to get in the bath. After undressing she stepped in and sank all the way down, letting her head dip below the surface. She had a lot to learn about being a good spy. She sat up a little, to breath, and stared up at the ceiling. She'd think of an explanation for the smell in a few minutes. But right now, the warmth seeping into her aching body felt so good, and a little relaxation was foremost in her mind.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Ha. Ha ha._ Hermione smiled to herself as she headed back to her room, squeaky clean from her bath. Being female had its perks. She'd thought over her interaction with Lupin, and felt certain the question wouldn't arise again. Naturally, she was in her time of the month, and was embarrassed by his question! I was an absurdly easy fix to the problem, really. And she felt rather certain her reaction could be attributed to embarrassment. Even the fact he was a werewolf worked to her advantage. It probably occurred to him that no one else had even noticed the smell. And then he probably put two and two together and came up with five. Poor Lupin. How embarrassing for him!

Hermione was about to pass by Harry's room when the first bell toll of disaster reached her ears.

"Where's my blooming invisibility cloak?" That sounded like Harry in the early stages of a full fledged tantrum. She could recognize the warning signs. There was repressed frustration in his voice on the verge of ripening into full blown anger. She paused to listen for a moment. His door was open, and she didn't want to be seen passing by just yet.

"Someone's made off with it, Ron!"

"Nah, you just forgot where you put it. Calm down and think for half a minute and it'll come to you." There was a pause. She could hear Harry growl.

"Better yet, just use accio to call it to you! I'm a genius, Harry."

"No, I can't, because it's been _ta_ken, _Ron_. I'm sure of it. And I want to know who took it! If it just flies to me, I'm likely to miss where it came from. Besides, it may not be in the house at all," he added darkly.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and started toward her room again, not waiting to hear more. They didn't seem to notice her as she passed by, thankfully. She needed to get his cloak back, and fast! When had Harry developed a sixth sense, anyway? Of course, it was more likely that his certainty was a side effect of his growing more suspicious of people in general, an ugly trait he'd been developing lately.

She closed her door behind her, and dropped her things on the dresser. Now…how to get the cloak back? She could wear it, and wait until he left the room to place it back. But he could be just outside when she exited, or worse, he could change his mind about using the accio charm while she still had it on! Scratch that, then.

She'd have to conceal it, and sneak it in after he went downstairs. Until then, she'd have to wait. She opened her door to keep an eye out, then went and lay down in bed, cloak safely under her head. It would probably just be a few minutes…

Hardly a moment had passed before Hermione was dead asleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"…looks so drawn, I don't like it. I don't know how we missed it before. You're supposed to notice things like that, Ron, you're her boyfriend aren't you?"

"Hey, _you're_ a girl, like her. Therefore you should notice stuff like that faster, like when you're…fixing each others hair and junk like…that." His voice dropped off uncertainly, and Hermione heard Ginny's muffled giggle. She could imagine Ginny raising an eyebrow at Ron as if to say "righhhht." They were both just a few feet away, talking in low voices by her door. Hermione sighed inwardly. She must've fallen asleep. She'd been so warm and loose from that bath, it wasn't too surprising, really. She decided to listen in on the conversation a bit longer.

Ginny was speaking. "…time for girl stuff, really. She spends more time at the library than anywhere else. It's no wonder we didn't notice, I suppose." Ginny's tone had gotten more serious.

"Yeah, well, we'll all be going back to school soon." School! She'd nearly forgotten, somehow. "And we'll all be expected to remove ourselves from the Order's work, as promised. A bit weird, really."

"Especially for Harry. I wish…we could do more, somehow. Damn prophecy."

"Ginny, language!" There was a hint of humor in his chiding tone.

"Oh stuff it, Ron." She was laughing again. "The pressure's getting to him, though. Just look at his mood right now."

"Don't remind me. He's acting like an absolute git, and over a cloak he probably misplaced himself. Actually, you know what I think? I bet someone in the Order needed it in a pinch, and he wasn't around, so they just took it and plan to give it back later. I mean, who would actually _steal_ it? The entire house is made up of members of the Order. It's like… he just wants to be angry, really." Hermione was a little surprised at this. Ron complaining about Harry? He must've been really awful earlier. She was surprised she'd fallen asleep. When Harry threw a fit, he was _loud_.

"I…know what you mean. But he's the sweetest person in the world, Ron. And he's just been angry ever since Dumbledore...died." Murder was still too strong a word to use for those who had known him.

"I know. And you can't blame him. He was right there when it happened, after all. He _witnessed_ Dumbledore's death. Harry's been working on a few curses just for that murdering, back stabbing git…Snape, I mean." _No, Ron, you're wrong. He saved my _life_ last night. He's saved all our lives over the years._ That horrible twisting feeling began to pull at Hermione's gut again. That feeling that happened anytime her friends started discussing plans for revenge on Snape. Now, she decided, was a good time to "wake up". Ron's voice was getting a bit louder from anger anyway.

She opened her eyes and looked around. "Hello, you two. What're you up to?"

Ginny looked over. "Oh, sorry Hermione! We didn't mean to wake you up."

"No, I was waking up anyway. It's not your fault. Were you talking? I didn't even notice, really."

"Well in that case, we'll just include you in our conversation," Ron smiled and walked fully into the room, sitting on the side of her bed. Ginny came around the other side, and sat cross-legged near the bottom corner, grinning.

"Well it looks like I don't have a choice!" Hermione laughed, and sat up in bed, giving Ron and Ginny more room to spread out. As she had hoped, the conversation moved on to other topics, like her health, and Harry's missing cloak. Ironically this was less nerve wracking for her than attacks on Snape's character.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Only a few minutes passed before an angry Harry returned from downstairs, ready to continue his mad hunt for the cloak-that-was-lost. Fortunately Hermione decided this could work to her advantage.

"Hermione, have you seen my invisibility cloak? Someone's done something with it…" His brows were down, and his entire body was tense. He looked about ready to snap. And she didn't feel like being snapped at, pun intended.

She cut him off in as firm a tone as she could manage. "Harry." She paused, making sure she had his attention, and went on. "I haven't seen it, but I've been _hearing_ about it for awhile now. I know this may sound ridiculous, but why don't we all search our rooms, very thoroughly, one more time, yours included, _before_ you go off on another wild goose chase." She glowered at him briefly when it looked like he had a prickly retort. Then she got up, pillow firmly hugged to her chest, and headed for the door. "I'll check your room. Why don't Ron and Ginny check their rooms, and you can ask Lupin and anyone else that's here to check their rooms." She turned to look back at him when there was no answer. He was looking surly.

"_Humor_ me, Harry. Please. If this doesn't work, we'll move onto something else, but in a logical manner. Systematically."

He gave her a look that screamed _don't patronize me_, but after a moment he relented. "Alright. You're right." She was about to turn around when his gaze shifted to something behind her. "Hullo, Moody."

She turned around to see Mad-Eye Moody standing in the hall about a dozen feet away. He came towards them, magical eye whizzing. Her stomach plummeted. _His magical eye! _ She was trapped! And even as she realized how desperate her situation was, the eye whizzed past her, then back tracked, then _stopped_. On her pillow. Dead center.

She just stared, not knowing what to do. Only he could see her face right now. Give him a sign! Tell him not to say anything! She opened her mouth, but what to say? His gaze moved to Harry as he reached their group.

"I hear your cloak's gone missing, Potter. Hard _not_ to hear, actually." She closed her mouth, waiting to see what he would say next. He _had_ seen it, right? She turned back around to face the group as a whole.

Harry answered, ignoring Moody's barb. "Yeah, I think someone's taken it, actually. I'm very careful with where I put it, because it's very important to me. When I find whoever took it, I've half a mind to curse them." Hermione could see Moody raise what were left of his eyebrows.

"Let's not be too hasty, Potter. Why don't we just start with what Miss Granger suggested, and look through your rooms once again, carefully. I'll help, if you like." Moody had come to stand next to Hermione, just outside the door. He turned back around, glancing at her briefly as he did so. Her unspoken question was answered in the split second she caught his eye. He _had_ seen the cloak, and later he expected answers.

They stayed with the room assignments she'd already suggested, with Moody following her into Harry's room first to help search with his magical eye. He turned to her when they were alone, and spoke quietly.

"Potter's cloak is between the wall and the bed, right there, Granger." He pointed to the head of Harry's bed, where it was pushed up against the far wall of the room. "Why don't you go get it." His gaze was inscrutable, but his actions showed that he was covering for her, in any case. She walked over to the head of Harry's bed and pulled the cloak out of her pillow case.

She turned to look back at Moody, speaking equally quietly. "Thank you. And I promise I'll explain everything to you later." He gave her short nod. Then she walked past him and raised her voice to call out. "Harry! We found it! It was in your room after all!" She glanced back at Moody. She _would_ have some explaining to do, and probably later that night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bwahaha! Is she gonna spill the beans, or is Snape's secret safe with her? She hasn't been doing so well today, has she? She is a novice, though it could be the lack of bloooood. Hopefully she'll get better at keeping secrets, for Snape's sake.

Meep. I didn't update this for…the entire semester of school! College sucks! And I'm no good at multi-tasking…

It may be slow going, but I'd like anybody who's still interested in reading this story (the number's probably dwindled to…three people, I've taken so long updating) to know that I have this completely mapped out. I had an outline before, but this last week I sat down and came up with how many chapters, what's in each chapter, etc. Of course, it may expand as I write it, if sub plots occur to me. But…I have a plan, which means I'll be able to finish it. Although probably not until this summer. When school starts back, I'm not sure how much writing I'll be doing, once again. Right now I have it at fourteen good sized chapters, although a few may need splitting up.

And…if anyone's still reading, thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It means a _whole__lot_ to me. It is so very wonderful to see feedback on something I've put time and energy into. In fact, it makes me want to write a book. (When I'm in my fifties, however. )

And…I don't know if anyone cares, but you'll be seeing more characters before too long…um. In a few more chapters, I think. And by characters, I mean other characters that are written about a lot that people like. Yeah. You can try and guess who! If you want. (But I'm not bringing anybody back from the dead, of course.) And Snape will be back soon. Hmmm. This is the first (and only, I believe) Snape free chapter. Though he is mentioned frequently. Does that count?


	6. Treading Carefully

**Double Life **

**Chapter Six**

Summary: Spoiler for HBP. Hermione finds questions surfacing in her mind about the night Dumbledore was killed. In a moment of inspiration, she decides to pay a visit to Dumbledore's portrait, and finds herself stepping into a world of trouble.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yak, yak, yak. I'm poor, indebted to the government after four years of college. J.K. Rowling made my month with the sixth book, however.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Previous Chapter:

She turned to look back at Moody, speaking equally quietly. "Thank you. And I promise I'll explain everything to you later." He gave her short nod. Then she walked past him and raised her voice to call out. "Harry! We found it! It was in your room after all!" She glanced back at Moody. She _would_ have some explaining to do, and probably later that night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Chapter Six: Treading Carefully

Hermione saw it clearly in her mind's eye. Its beautiful shape, gently curved at the bottom, then smoothly coming to a fine point at the top. It glittered and sparkled as the light moved through it. Subtle hints of a rainbow could be seen at certain angles as it shifted perspective, and sometimes a shimmering green or a blue became briefly dominant. She could look at it from any angle she pleased, change the level of light moving through it, or any number of other subtle things. Its essence, as always, remained unchanged: a simple, yet strangely intricate drop of falling water.

Hermione was sitting on her bed meditating as she waited for Moody. She was using the tried and true method of visualization Snape had taught her in their first few lessons to help focus her mind. It also helped calm her down, which was especially helpful at the moment. It was nearing midnight, and she knew Moody would pay her a visit once he could do so inconspicuously, which was probably any minute now.

She had been preparing for this meeting in one way or another since their encounter earlier that afternoon. Retiring to her rooms almost immediately afterward, she had spent the next few hours conjuring up every possible question Moody might think to ask; every tactic he might use to unsettle her, and any movement or comment that might trick her into giving something away. At seven she had taken a break to eat dinner with everyone, then went back to her room for a real nap. Then she got back up about an hour later and continued to prepare herself.

Because this was going to be tricky, and if she screwed up Snape would never forgive her. Well, more importantly he might be compromised, but when it came down to it, her strongest motivation for success lay in avoiding the horrible conversation with Snape where she would have to explain how she had failed. Fortunately she didn't have time to think about that too closely.

Her concentration was on preparing for her meeting with Moody. This situation wasn't quite so dire as it could be, of course. She could be completely unprepared for this. But in fact, Snape had already informed her that Moody would be incredibly useful to them, and that she would be contacting him at some point anyway. Snape's plan was that she would pass information on to Moody, who would announce it at the Order of the Phoenix meetings. This would be ideal since Moody already had a small network of spies who reported to him regularly, and only he knew who all of them were. Thus no one would know he had picked up an additional source. Moody had also been a prominent member of the Order during Voldemort's _previous_ rise to power, and what he said was taken very seriously. Essentially, Moody was trusted.

The trick was to convince him that she was trustworthy as well. _Without_ giving away Snape's identity. He had been clear about that. Moody couldn't know. That would destroy the whole point of using him as a middle man in the first place. If Moody were to be captured and tortured (God forbid) for information, he might give away Hermione, but Snape would still be safe.

Hermione hated to think that she would be putting Moody in more danger than he already was, but this arrangement would be the least dangerous for everyone involved. The quality of information he would be divulging would jump substantially, which would make him a bigger target for the Death Eaters. However since Moody already had several sources, he would be much less conspicuous than Hermione would be if she were to report to the Order directly. Also, no one would question the reliability of his information, and again, he would provide another layer of protection for Snape. It would be perfect. All she had to do was convince Moody of that.

It would be easier if he wasn't fairly skilled at Legilimency himself. That was why Snape wanted her to wait, of course. She needed to be good enough at Occlumency to successfully prevent Moody from reading her mind and finding out Snape's identity. Hermione knew she wasn't completely prepared for this meeting, but she also knew it was now or never. A comment Snape had made in one of her lessons served to demonstrate why.

"Half truths are infinitely preferable to complete lies." Telling Moody why she really had the cloak was better than making up some fabrication he was likely to see through. That would only gain his distrust, and when the time came to tell him the truth, (that she was working with a spy) he'd be ten times harder to convince. She was also letting her instincts guide her on this, because somehow she just knew that lying to Moody outright would be a horrible mistake.

Before dinner she had run through the possible permutations of their meeting; now she concentrated on preparing herself against Moody's possible use of Legilimency. She had run through the techniques he might use, and how to counter them, and was now meditating. She would be in control, she would be calm…

There was a knock on the door, and her heart rate immediately picked up. _Urgh_. She needed more practice at this.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Alastor Moody watched the girl as she made her way to the door. Naturally he could see through it, and was taking the chance to gauge her mental state. He had no clue why she was hiding things from Potter (such as his cloak), and so didn't know how serious this meeting was going to be. It could be a matter of giving her a quick slap on the wrist. One could hope.

Her mouth had tightened a bit when he knocked, but otherwise she looked pretty calm. In fact, she looked like she had been meditating.

She opened the door and offered him the small chair by her desk, then closed the door behind her. Whispering a silencing spell, a good common sense thing to do, she went to sit back down on her bed.

She pursed her lips and spoke. "Thank you for not telling Harry earlier about the cloak. I was so flustered at the time it would have been a total disaster." Her hands were folded, and she only glanced up at him briefly while she talked. She wasn't keen on eye contact, then.

"You've been a good friend to him, Granger. I'm sure you had a good reason for borrowing his cloak." _And not telling him_, but he didn't need to tell her that.

"There is." She stood back up, went to her closet and began rummaging around. He waited, curious, until she turned around again, holding a small wooden chest in her hands. Taking a look with his magical eye to save time, he…couldn't see inside? Dragonhide! What would she be hiding in dragonhide, perchance? He waited for an explanation, both eyes glued to her face. It was a little known fact that dragonhide, which dispelled strong magic, rendered his magical eye useless. Did she know that?

She came over and handed the box to him, still avoiding his eyes, then pulled out her wand. "Here, I'll open it." A twist later and the lid fell open, but her wand still hovered over it. She looked at him for a moment, very serious. "Sir, there is a horcrux wrapped in this dragonhide. Be extremely careful that you don't touch it accidentally."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione watched as Moody's mouth fell open. Not many people got to see him this surprised, she guessed. He pulled himself together after a moment, and focused intently on the horcrux. She sat back down and waited for him to start asking questions.

"How do you know it's a horcrux?"

"If it's not, I'm going to be extremely upset. It was very difficult to retrieve." He glanced up at her, a little surprised at her answer.

"Where did you get it, then?"

"From Castle Harloch, Helga Hufflepuff's ancestral home."

"You mean the one that went missing several decade ago? I don't suppose you could take me there, Granger?"

"You wouldn't want to go. I imagine Lord Voldemort is visiting it as we speak." He looked up at her, frowning deeply. Hermione could tell he'd almost had enough of this. He covered the goblet back up in dragonhide and closed the chest.

"Perhaps you should start from the beginning, Granger."

She sighed, and took a moment before responding. "I have a source who has access to high level information. They found out where the horcrux was, and we had to take it before Voldemort moved it. Apparently he's only recently realized the necklace from the cave has been destroyed."

"It hasn't, to my knowledge. It's simply gone missing." Her eyes widened a bit. Oh yes. Moody didn't know that the locket had been destroyed yet.

"You'll just have to trust me when I tell you it has."

Moody leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "And should I trust this source of yours, too? Is it safe to assume he's a Death Eater, Miss Granger? He must be highly trusted by the Dark Lord to be getting his hands on this sort of information. How do you know he's not using you?" These were dangerous questions.

"How do you know it's a man?"

There was a glint of triumph in his eyes. "Call it a hunch. There aren't many female Death Eaters, and somehow I can't picture Bellatrix Lestrange helping you, Miss Granger. Subtlety isn't her strong point."

Hermione paused. Darn. He was so certain it was a higher up Death Eater helping her, and a man. She couldn't give him any other clues. In fact, it would be best if she could confuse him into thinking it might not be a Death Eater at all. "I'm afraid you've jumped to a few conclusions. I never said my source was a Death Eater. Most of your sources _aren't_, I'll wager. And whether it's a man or a woman isn't something I can tell you either."

Moody leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, frowning deeply. "Then what _can_ you tell me, Granger?" He was growling now. "Why bother telling me anything at all if you're going to leave out the most important parts?"

She gave him her best entreating look. "I'd be breaking my _word_. I've promised to protect their identity at all costs. I will tell you that if it were leaked they would be in grave danger." She had to make clear exactly what they were discussing, because talking in circles was just making him angry. "If you don't believe me about the horcrux, take it to someone who can test it. Discreetly of course. But the point is, I have a source who can provide essential information in the fight against Voldemort, including the location of the remaining horcruxes, hopefully." Her hands were raised, and she sat at the very edge of her bed, every muscle tense. Checking herself, she put her hands back down and looked away. She quietly added one more thing. "And…and if you choose not to believe me, you'll be throwing away an invaluable asset." He _had_ to understand how important this was.

Moody regarded her for a moment. She looked up to meet his eyes. He was looking calmer, almost contemplative. Then, as she held his gaze, she felt the first delicate attempts at Legilimency. She'd known when the conversation got serious he would try taking a peek inside her head, but she was a tad surprised at how subtle the intrusion was. No doubt he didn't think she was aware of it, and prior to Snape's training she wouldn't have been. Somewhere in the back of her mind a thought filtered through. _No wonder Dumbledore seemed omniscient._

She was prepared for this, however, and fed him a few images she had deemed safe earlier. A picture of Castle Harloch floated up for a moment, which was replaced by a picture of the goblet, inside that small square room, on its pedestal. She let him read the sincerity in her eyes, let the importance of this meeting, and the importance of what she was doing shine through. Then she looked away.

"Well? Do you believe me or don't you?" She held her breath.

"I believe that you trust this person, and think you're doing something important, Granger. But I'd like to do a few tests first, if you don't mind."

"You mean to see if it's a real horcrux?" She looked back at him in time to see a wand she hadn't noticed a moment ago whip up to point straight at her. She couldn't stop herself from tensing up.

"Yes, but there's this too. Appareo!" Hermione felt a strange sensation pass through her, from her head to her toes, almost like a beam of sunlight on a cool day, except on the inside. She let out a small gasp.

"What was that?" She was standing up now, but didn't think she'd done so entirely on her own. "I've never seen that spell before."

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly polite to use it on someone." Hermione pursed her lips at this. "Don't worry, I haven't done anything horrible to you. It allows me to check you for spells. If you were under any, I'd know. I can safely say you're not under the Imperius curse, in any case."

She sat back down, brightening up a bit. "Oh. Then I pass the…test." She frowned. "Wait." Something wasn't right here. "If you can check someone for spells as easily as all that, how is it you didn't put more Death Eaters in Azkaban from Voldemort's last rise to power?"

Moody gave her a smirk, and settled back into a more comfortable position. "Good question, Granger. There are few reasons." His wand had already been put up, and he raised both hands to count off on his fingers. "One, many people claimed they _were_ under the Imperius curse when they did something horrible, but there's no way to check that unless you were there when they did it. Two, people put spells on themselves that have nothing to do with dark magic. Sometimes pretty powerful ones, too. Let's say a woman doesn't like her appearance. There are any number of beauty enhancing spells you can apply to change the way you look. Those leave a signature of sorts the Appareo spell will pick up. That's why its use is prohibited. It's considered sticking your nose into other peoples' private business. Of course, it does get used in certain situations by aurors, but it's illegal for the average citizen."

"I see." There was silence for a moment or two.

"I could tell you have a very small spell working somewhere on your head, probably a head-ache spell?" She tensed up again. He was talking about the mensavoco stick currently stuck behind her ear by magic! "But nothing so powerful as the Imperius curse, so you did pass the test, incidentally."

Hermione's whole face brightened up, and she couldn't help sounding a little girlish in her excitement. "Really? Then you'll help us pass information to the Order?"

"Well, I didn't say that. I still want this little item tested to make sure it really is what you say it is. However, I have a hunch you're right. You're a smart, common sense kind of person, Granger. And I can see you've spent a fair amount of time with this mystery man of yours..." Hermione raised her eyebrows, and he added "or mystery woman. And you trust them. I don't see you making a mistake about a person when you've got your own common sense backing you up." He paused. "And when they've taken the time to protect you as they have. Tell me the truth; they've given you a few lessons in Occlumency, am I right?"

This caught her a little off guard. He could tell she was feeding him images, then? She looked at him uncertainly, the victory bells in her head melting away. "I…yes. A few. How did you know?"

He shifted in his chair, getting into a more comfortable position. "You tell me. How _did_ I know, Granger? I take it you haven't spent much time on Legilimency?"

She thought hard for a moment, until understanding struck. "You could sense my emotions, and could tell from them that I _knew_ you were in my head. And only someone who had training in Occlumency would be aware of that." She frowned to herself and looked down. "I was too eager, and wasn't guarding my emotions closely enough."

"Well tell your tutor, whoever they are, that you need to be practicing Legilimency as well if you want to be good at Occlumency." She looked up in surprise and caught him grinning at her. "You can't just experience someone practicing it on _you_, you've got to try it on _them_ as well."

She grinned as well, and looked away again. She knew this tactic; Moody was trying to make her think of her source in hopes of catching a glimpse of who it was. "I'll be sure to pass that along." Or, he could just be giving her good advice. You couldn't be too careful, though. Her grin turned into a smile, and she stood up.

Moody followed suit. "Well I'd best be on my way, Granger. And you can rest assured this is in safe hands." They made their way to the door. "I'll let you know if it's real as soon as they've got results."

"It is. I have no doubt, sir." She smiled up at him again. "I'll be waiting though, because when you've got your confirmation you'll agree to pass information along, right?"

He tilted his head to the side. "We'll see, Granger."

She nodded, looking down at her feet, and then turned to take off the silencing spell. "Oh! Wait." She needed to say a few more things first. "Harry, Ron, and everyone really can't know. That is, I haven't told them because Harry…he still had a connection to the Dark Lord."

He looked at her for a moment. "Meaning Potter could accidentally leak the fact you're in contact with a spy?"

"Yes." She looked up at him uncertainly. "So…you won't tell anyone where you got the goblet from, right?"

"I hadn't planned on it, Granger. Kind of negates the point of having me as your middleman, if everyone knows I'm getting the information from _you_." He paused. "But you reminded me of something that needs attention badly. Potter needs to be able to block out the Dark Lord. I understand he's had a few lessons in Occlumency already?"

She looked down at the door knob, wishing this hadn't been brought up, but knowing it was actually a good thing. It was just that they were back on dangerous ground again. She brought a little sadness into her voice, a little wounded pride. "Snape gave him lessons during our fifth year. I'm not sure how far he got; you'll have to ask him."

"That I will, when I start giving him lessons." She looked up.

"You're going to teach him, sir?"

"Not many others that can, Granger. I'll probably do a better job than Snape, in any case," he added in a growl.

"No doubt. Harry hated those lessons. I don't think he learned much at all." She let hate seep into her voice, but it wasn't entirely an act. She _was_ rather annoyed at Harry, after all. Moody could interpret it however he liked.

He grunted, and leaned more weight on his good leg. "That boy doesn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord in a real duel without at least some mastery of Occlumency under his belt." Hermione gave an internal smirk. Where had she heard that before? Somehow she doubted Snape would like being compared to Moody, however.

"You look tired, Granger, so this really is Good Night."

She looked back to Moody (she had still been staring at the doorknob). "Right. Good luck with teaching Harry." Then she took the silencing spell off the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. He stepped through.

"Good Night sir," she whispered. He nodded at her, and started down the hall. She closed the door behind him.

_Whew_! It was over! That wasn't something she wanted to do again anytime soon. Her lesson with Snape could be demanding, but at least she wasn't guarding her every word. How did he do it? Being a spy was a horrendous line of work, she decided. Definitely not for her. _Even if_, she couldn't help thinking, _I might be a tad good at it_.

She flopped down on her bed, and curled up into a comfy little ball. The best part of this evening had to be getting rid of that horrible goblet. It gave her the creeps. And she had made contact with Moody even sooner than planned! And Snape's identity was safe! There was no down side, actually.

Except for the splitting headache she was developing. The last few days had been way too stressful. Nearly dieing was not on her list of favorite things to do. Maybe she _should_ try a head-ache charm. And another few glasses of water wouldn't hurt, either. Then she would be off to dreamland.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles away, Severus Snape knelt in a small, square room inside the castle Harloch. He was carefully scraping up a sample of Hermione's dried blood from the floor. Of course, he was the only one who knew who it belonged to. The Dark Lord, thankfully, was completely in the dark, and had told him to find any signs of intrusion before leaving to vent his anger in other parts of the castle. Severus didn't mind that in the least. Better a few blocks of stone got crushed than him. He expected the Dark Lord would return before long to conduct his own search and draw his own conclusions, of course. After his intense desire to kill had subsided first. Again Severus sent up his thanks. He was too important to the Dark Lord to be killed in a fit of anger. If it had been Wormtail here instead, Hermione's blood would have had company by now.

He stiffened slightly as he heard Voldemort returning. Finished gathering up the blood, he stood and put it (carefully wrapped in a handkerchief) in a pocket for safe keeping. He turned to see the Dark Lord standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Severus. What have you found out?" His voice was cool. He had put away his rage for later, to be used, no doubt, on whoever had stolen the horcrux.

"It appears that whatever was stolen has been gone for a least a month and a half, my Lord. Perhaps longer." He paused. It was time to go fishing. "I cannot hazard a guess as to who may have been here, however. Perhaps if I knew what it was they took..?"

Voldemort's eyes glittered strangely, and his eyes narrowed. Severus brought thoughts of loyalty to the forefront of his mind, as he had done many times before. _I only wish to serve, my Master, to have all the clues in order to help you unravel the puzzle…_ "That will take some explanation. But you, Severus, are my most trusted servant." Voldemort came over and placed his hands on his shoulders, "And I know that what I tell you will be closely guarded."

Severus bowed his head. "My Lord, I will do everything in my power to help." He looked up, concern on his face. "And I can sense that whatever was stolen is very important to you."

"You have no idea how important, Severus." Voldemort turned his head and gazed up at the ceiling. "I will enlighten you in a few minutes." He frowned, and the rage from earlier surfaced in his eyes for a moment. "But first," he stepped away from Severus, letting go of his shoulders, and something deep down inside the potions master relaxed a tiny bit at the loss of contact. "I should like to take a look around myself." He made his way to the pedestal, and began studying it. He continued speaking in a distracted voice. "Severus, I want you to find out whose blood that is. I believe the Identity potion will do nicely. Wormtail can help with the more mundane steps."

Severus stood still as the Dark Lord continued his detailed search for clues. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he conceded that it was slightly terrifying, waiting to see if his presence in the room over twenty-four hours ago would be noted by the Dark Lord. That part of him was tightly controlled, however, and no hint of fear came close to leaking out.

"It should be done in a few weeks, my Lord." The potion of Identity, as he recalled, took about two weeks to brew. It had several permutations, but in essence, you could produce a complete three dimensional image, somewhat ghost-like in quality, of any person-granted that you had a piece of them to work with. Blood worked nicely, but hair, fingernail clippings, or even a bit of skin would do. The preparation changed slightly, according to which ingredient you were working with.

A small thread of worry was trying to worm its way up into Severus' conscious mind, which was squashed pitilessly. When the potion was finished, Hermione would be irrevocably placed on the Dark Lord's most hated list. Having already guessed that the Dark Lord would want this potion made, Severus had already decided to switch her blood with someone else's to avoid this, like Potter (he was already on the list, after all), but with Wormtail nosing around this could prove tricky. The Dark Lord would want him to start immediately, which meant he would have to pretend to mess up and start over, once he got some of Potter's blood to work with (supplied by Hermione, naturally). _Hmm_. A small smile graced his lips. He'd have to let Wormtail take credit for the set back, then. It wouldn't be too difficult to slip him a mild sleeping potion before he took over the brewing process, after all. Or something else to that effect.

Severus followed the Dark Lord as he moved out of the room to meticulously examine the wall just outside the doorway. After a few more minutes Voldemort turned to face him, looking frustrated. "There is nothing more to be gained here." Here turned and strode quickly toward the exit. "Come. I will tell you what has been stolen on our way out. Much needs to be done."

Severus hurried to keep up with the Voldemort's manic pace, and listened intently as he began explaining about the soul, and how it could be split into several pieces, if one had enough cunning and was willing to kill…

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was several hours later that Severus made his way home, tense and tired out at the same time. He almost immediately started getting ready for sleep. Sadly, he hadn't learned much more than he already knew about the horcruxes, or their locations. And very ironically, the Dark Lord thought he had greatly enlightened him. Hopefully future meetings would be more useful. Right now the next step in Voldemort's immediate plan did not include Severus. He had a feeling _someone_ would be accompanying Voldemort to the next horcrux location, however, and that person would be expendable. Judging from what the Dark Lord had said, the next location was even better guarded than the Hufflepuff castle, and required more than blood to gain entry. It required a life.

Severus guessed that the Dark Lord would decide what to do after checking on that horcrux. Severus knew it hadn't been taken, so the question was when the Dark Lord found it still there, would he leave it or move it? If he chose to have it moved, he would probably tell Severus where it was located at some point in the moving process, at which point he could steal it. However, if the Dark Lord didn't move it, Severus couldn't think of any reason for him to divulge its location to anyone, which was a problem. Only time could tell what he would do, though.

Having finished his evening routine, Severus made his way into the bedroom and turned back the covers to his bed. He paused before getting in. Hermione needed to be contacted as soon as possible in order to get the replacement blood, probably tomorrow night. And presumably Wormtail would be paying him a visit soon to help him with the potion. Perhaps he should contact Hermione now…? No. Maybe his decision was foolish, but he knew she still had to be tired from last night, and he was currently dead on his feet. And he knew from experience that lack of sleep caused sloppiness, so asking Hermione to get a sample of Potter's blood right now was potentially a very bad idea. Potter could end up losing a limb.

Severus let out a _whoof_ of air, a sort of pseudo-laugh, as he climbed into bed. He really _did_ need sleep if he thought that was funny. He got comfortable after lying down, and after a few minutes felt himself drifting off. As he fell asleep, one last stray thought passed through his head. When had he started referring to the girl as Hermione, anyway...?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Author's note: Thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Reviews are really rather nice, they make me feel all happy inside. And a really thoughtful review is especially appreciated.

I've got a note or too about this chapter that didn't seem to fit in. One, I thought you might wonder why Severus didn't clear away the blood altogether, in order to avoid making the potion in the first place? The answer is that he knows dark magic too well. When the doorway required blood, it sucks it in like a sponge for safe keeping, and getting it out again was something he didn't have time to do. (Since Hermione was dying at the time.) So there really wasn't any point in removing the blood. Drying it was the least dangerous way to leave it he could think of at the time. In case anyone was curious.

Also, I came up with a spell and a potion for this chapter. If these names are already taken or something…oops. Anyway, appareo is Latin for "to become visible, appear, manifest", which I thought made sense. The name of the potion speaks for itself.


	7. Ignorance Is Not Bliss

**Previous chapter:**

_Having finished his evening routine, Severus made his way into the bedroom and turned back the covers to his bed. He paused before getting in. Hermione needed to be contacted as soon as possible in order to get the replacement blood, probably tomorrow night. And presumably Wormtail would be paying him a visit soon to help him with the potion. Perhaps he should contact Hermione now…? No. Maybe his decision was foolish, but he knew she still had to be tired from last night, and he was currently dead on his feet. And he knew from experience that lack of sleep caused sloppiness, so asking Hermione to get a sample of Potter's blood right now was potentially a very bad idea. Potter could end up losing a limb._

_Severus let out a whoof of air, a sort of pseudo-laugh, as he climbed into bed. He really did need sleep if he thought that was funny. He got comfortable after lying down, and after a few minutes felt himself drifting off. As he fell asleep, one last stray thought passed through his head. When had he started referring to the girl as Hermione, anyway...?_

**Chapter Seven: Ignorance Is Not Bliss**

**

* * *

**

Hermione made her way quickly through the deserted halls of Hogwarts. She had been summoned by Snape, which was a relief, for once. She had spent the day worried about how his meeting with Voldemort went, and, consequently, if her once-professor was still alive and in one piece. So the familiar sting of the Mensavoco charm going off in her head had actually been a comfort.

Even so, on Hermione's way out of 12 Grimmauld Place, it had briefly occurred to her that she might be walking into a trap. After all, Snape _could_ have been found out.

But how could she _not_ go? After acknowledging that, Hermione pushed the fear away, knowing it was absolutely useless to dwell. Besides, she'd prefer to leave as much of the paranoid thinking to Snape as she could.

As Hermione walked, her thoughts turned to the conversation with Moody. How would Snape react when she told him about it? She was rather eager to fill him in, actually, feeling a little proud at having successfully moved forward on his plan to eventually include Moody. But this _was_ Snape, and seeing the negative in things was something he excelled at.

She smirked to herself. Well...perhaps he'd acknowledge, at least, that she hadn't screwed anything up.

Reaching a suitable classroom, Hermione went through the ritual of locking the door, blocking sound, and making it habitable by supplying light and chairs (in this case there were plenty available). In a few moments she was ready to summon Snape, and did so.

Hermione had just sat down when he arrived. She automatically stood back up.

There was a moment of silence as memories from their last meeting rose up between them. Had it really been the night before last that they'd retrieved a horcrux? That she had nearly died- and Snape had saved her life?

The news about Moody temporarily fell by the wayside as Hermione watched Snape choose a chair facing her, and they both sat.

Hermione was struck by how comfortable she felt in his presence right now. The need she usually felt to immediately fill the silence was...gone. After worrying about Snape all day, she supposed just seeing him whole was very soothing.

Snape was leaning back, hands folded on his stomach, which was an unusually relaxed posture for him. Actually, everything about him was more relaxed than usual. His face was less guarded, and his eyes shone more brightly. All in all, he appeared, well…comfortable. It was strangely flattering to think that perhaps her own feelings were being mirrored by him.

Of course, without Dumbledore, Hermione knew she was the _only_ person Snape could drop the façade with. The only member of the Order of the Phoenix _left_...who wouldn't attack him on sight.

Hermione let out a soft sigh, and asked the question that had been on her mind all day.

"So, how did things go?"

Severus Snape's voice was quiet yet clear. "It went as well as could be expected. He suspects nothing, and even told me about the horcruxes. Nothing we don't already know, however. I _may_ uncover another location soon if he chooses to move another horcrux, since he said it would require my help." He gave a slight shrug. "There are many things he could have me do, however, that wouldn't require disclosing the present or future location of that horcrux to me. So it remains to be seen how much further he will take me into his confidences. I can say that he trusts me, however- as much as he trusts anyone."

Hermione blinked in surprise when Snape smirked slightly. Despite the topic, he seemed to be in a rather good mood. She smiled.

"That's wonderful. Do you have any idea how long he will take to decide about moving it?"

"Not very long, I expect. But finding and preparing a new location will take some time."

"So...and he probably _will_ move it, don't you think?"

Snape sighed. "The Dark Lord, as you've deduced by now, I _hope,_" he raised an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look, "is paranoid. And even putting that aside, he doesn't know how the goblet's location was determined, and therefore shouldn't trust any of the remaining locations to be safe. If basic common sense prevails, he'll move the rest."

"The remaining two."

Snape gave her a strange look, shifting slightly. "Yes. Although…he gave me the distinct impression there might be only _one_ left. To relocate, in any case."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Then...he's already carrying one with him?"

"Possibly." Snape narrowed his eyes, expression impenetrable. Hermione got the impression he didn't think so.

_But where else could it be if not…_

"Do you think it's been destroyed? That would be convenient," she added.

Snape shrugged in a dismissive way, and she got the impression he might have a hunch, but clearly wasn't willing to divulge it just yet. "Only time will tell, Miss Granger. There's no point in discussing it further right now."

Well, his answer rankled just a bit. But the subject was clearly closed.

"So now it's a waiting game."

"For the most part." Snape looked like he might go on to say something else, but paused and glanced to the side for a moment. It was a curiously hesitant gesture for him.

Hermione looked away as well, starting to feel hesitant herself. She needed to tell Snape about Moody, but how should she broach that subject...?

"What?"

Hermione glanced up, startled. Snape's eyes were on her again.

"You seem rather…distracted." His tone was mildly curious. "Out with it." With whatever it was he had been about to say temporarily forgotten, his good mood seemed to return. Hermione crossed her fingers, and decided it was best to be blunt.

"I made contact with Moody." She continued on before Snape had a chance to react, but he was already sitting up, face serious. "I followed the plan, as far as we had laid it out, and...gave him the horcrux as proof. He's promised not to say anything. He's...checking it for authenticity."

"I see." Snape's mouth was suddenly tight, and his eyes flashed in anger.

_ Good-bye good mood._

Snape repeated himself."I _see_. So you just decided this seemed like a good time to _include_ him? You couldn't wait a few days to ask my _opinion_?" His voice was still deceptively quiet, but she knew he was getting angry. "But naturally, you had the horcrux; the perfect proof of where my loyalties lie, sitting in your lap. Why wait? And I assume you were feeling particularly confident in your Occlumency skills after your near _death_ experience?" He snorted, his face dangerously close to a sneer.

"I…I wasn't going to tell him anything, but I _had_ t…"

"Something slipped…"

Hermione nodded quickly. "Harry's invisibility cloak. Moody _saw_...," Snape's face darkened more, "that...I was _hiding_ it from Harry. I _had_ to explain why to Moody, later. And I didn't think I could outright lie." She frowned, looking down at her feet. "Not convincingly...yet." She pushed on, wanting to clarify that she _wasn't_ being the rash Gryffindor, as he had suggested. "I didn't know what else to do given the situation, so I told him the truth. The horcrux was probably the only thing that guaranteed his serious attention, actually."

She looked up again and caught Snape's narrowed eyes. "Your identity is _safe_, though. He doesn't know if my contact is a Death Eater, or…or a man, or _anything_, really. Except that you have access to high level information, obviously."

He frowned at her. "So you didn't use Occlumency?"

Hermione flushed. "Well, yes. So he knows that you, that is, my _contact_, has been _teaching_ me. But beyond that…"

Snape interrupted again, voice low and hard. "Let me _enlighten_ you, Miss Granger: you don't know _what_ he knows. You aren't skilled enough yet." He paused to let that sink in, and then continued. "Allow me to set you straight about a few things that certainly _have_ gone through Moody's head, however. He suspects that whoever you are in touch with is most likely a highly placed Death Eater, of which there aren't many. He _knows_ this person is dangerous, and not to be trusted. Working _against_ the Dark Lord isn't equivalent to working _with_ the Order, Miss Granger. He's undoubtedly concerned that I could turn on you as soon as my goals are achieved, whatever they are. He may _hypothesize _that those goals include using you to gain entrance into the Order, so that after defeating the Dark Lord I can make quick work of his _enemies_ as well." Hermione clenched her hands together, horrified. She hadn't thought of _any_ of this!

Snape wasn't done. "What Mad-Eye does know for certain, if you've told him _anything_ about the retrieval of the Goblet, is that working with me puts you in _mortal danger_." He paused again, and then went on more slowly, voice less harsh.

"In essence, he may trust you, but that doesn't mean he trusts me. He likely sees you as young and naïve, which you _are. _Thankfully your trip here required you to apparate, otherwise you might've been followed, in which case he would have _known who I am by now_." He put weight on each word.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from visibly cringing. There was a horrible silence that she didn't know how to fill. Had she really messed up that badly? What should she have done _differently_? Lied? Put off the meeting somehow? She hadn't thought to do that, since she didn't want to risk Moody changing his mind about telling Harry... What should she have _done_?

"I'm s..."

But she was interrupted for a third time. "Under the circumstances, however, I believe you made the right decision." Snape's voice, acerbic a moment ago, was soft.

Hermione closed her mouth slowly, and leaned back. She frowned slowly. Why the brow beating, then...?

Snape raised a hand to stave off her question. "That _doesn't_ mean it wasn't extremely sloppy of you to get caught red handed by him in the first place, especially since you weren't sufficiently prepared for a meeting." He crossed his arms and moved a hand to his chin, his forefinger on his lower lip. He spoke quietly, half to himself. His calculating eyes partly obscured by the lamp light.

"From what I can garner...it seems that my identity is probably safe- although I _will_ be taking a look in your head in a moment to try and verify that. And truth be told...Moody's protective and distrustful nature were always going to be a hindrance even under the best of circumstances. Of course, he knows the importance of finding these horcruxes, however, and will be willing to risk your safety, to some extent, in exchange for acquiring information about them. You _are_ a member of the Order, after all."

Hermione crossed her arms too. The way he spoke made the room seem a little chillier. And she still felt a little aggravated at his harsh tones from before. "So...even if I was extremely sloppy," to use his words, "if I didn't do anything particularly bad, was the lecture really necessary just now?" Hermione cursed herself the moment she finished.

Snape leaned back, as though her comment was relaxing. He pursed his lips. "Contrary to what you may think, it wasn't pointless at all. I needed to warn you about him, and was planning to give you that speech _before_ you made contact. As such, it's rather overdue." He straightened up again, suddenly very serious. "You can't trust him, and you _will_ have to watch your back twice as carefully from now on. That's something you should repeat to yourself, oh, every ten minutes." He smirked at her, but she wasn't entirely sure that was a joke.

"Constant vigilance, Professor?"

She smirked in turn as his expression went sour. He raised an eyebrow. "If that serves to remind you."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "You know, I can't help thinking you two have a few things in common." Judging by Snape's curdling expression, her comment rankled. She went quickly on. "He's going to give Harry Occlumency lessons, by the way. He also thinks Harry will need them in his fight against You-Know-Who."

Snape glanced to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Good." He looked back, catching her eye. "Hopefully Moody get something through that dense skull of his."

"Hopefully."

A slightly uncomfortable silence descended between them. Hermione pushed through it.

"So…I guess it's back to _my_ Occlumency lessons, then?"

"No..." _Oh. Alright then. _ Then Snape's eyes seemed to focus differently, as though he had been looking _through_ her a moment ago...and now he _wasn't_. "Actually...yes." Hermione couldn't stop her eyes from widening. His gaze was a little _too_ intense.

"Right..."

"I need to take that look, Granger." Snape stood up, and it took Hermione a moment to realize what he meant as he walked over to her. He crossed his arms, looking down at her.

"You mean, to see how the meeting with Moody...?"

"Yes. So...," he tilted his head slightly, frowning down at her, "to _clarify_, your goal is to let me take a look, unhindered. Just clear your mind, bring up that conversation...and _don't_ block me."

He stared down at her a moment longer, then pursed his lips in irritation. "Perhaps sometime tonight, Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped up, feeling embarrassed and very nervous. She had never _not_ resisted before, since the whole point of Occlumency was to _obscure_ your thoughts, not offer them up for examination.

Snape came close, startling Hermione slightly when he raised his left hand and placed his fingertips on her face, gently tilting her head up. It felt strange, and only made her more nervous.

Snape was already focused, his eyes unreadable as he stared down at her. "This will be...a little different. Just stay relaxed. If it's any consolation, the Dark Lord has done this to me many times."

With that morbid thought, he began. He didn't say the word, but as with Moody, Hermione was aware of the intrusion of a Legilimens.

His presence quickly became much more obvious than Moody's, and Hermione immediately understood what Snape meant by _different_.

With her own concentration on keeping him out _removed_, and with her mind only lightly focused on the conversation with Moody, Hermione found herself focusing on something else, something obvious:

The feel of another's mind, or..._magic_, touching her own.

She could _feel_ Snape's magic! Or his...presence? Hermione tried to think back to when Moody had intruded. Had it felt the same? Or was it always unique to each individual?

It was completely..._fascinating_.

Hermione found herself encouraging, no..._pulling_, so she could get a better understanding of this strange presence...

She was vaguely aware that Snape didn't seem to mind her tugging, since his focus was on feeling out the memory of Moody's use of legilimency the night before...

Then, very suddenly, Snape wasn't important anymore, because Hermione _was_ _there_. She was reliving that brief memory, when Moody had been looking inside her head. Even the emotions she had felt then were playing through her again. It was shocking, and in no way similar to the Pensieve-like memories she had experienced during her tries at Occlumency before. It was so _real_ she could even _smell_ her room and _feel her heart beating_...

_This is only a memory!_

As that mildly panicked thought asserted itself, Hermione's perspective shifted again: now she was struggling with two simultaneous sets of emotions and actions; those in the past, and those in the present. And Snape's presence was mixed into the whole thing...

It felt like vertigo. Hermione instinctively pushed back hard, trying to disentangle herself from _everything_, from the entire strange experience...

Suddenly there was nothing but pain.

It was gone in an instant, and Hermione found herself looking into Snape's eyes again. She took a gasping breath of air, her heart racing, and watched, drawn by the movement, as Snape's hands dropped to his sides. She felt a residual warmth on her cheeks, and realized that he must have been holding her face in both hands...

Snape stepped back slowly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"You pushed back."

Hermione raised a hand to her temple, still trying to reorient herself, to grasp what had happened. Her mind wanted to fixate on that almost-agony...

She swallowed, pulling her thoughts together. "I...didn't mean to. The memory..."

"Your memories are more perfect than you realize. I was simply using a technique to help bring up what I was seeking...in _full_ detail." Snape crossed his arms. He seemed to be struggling between annoyance and bemusement. "It _can_ be rather startling, the first time. I'd forgotten."

"Did you...stop the connection?" She didn't _think_ she had.

Snape shrugged, watching her carefully. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Hermione's eyes widened, and he went on. "When you let someone in like that, and _then_ you resist...it can be very painful. I know from experience."

"Who...?" _**Please**__ don't say You-Know-Who..._

"Albus Dumbledore."

Hermione swallowed again, and looked away. "Oh." She crossed her arms too, and glanced back. "Well, thank you." Her gaze lingered, caught by something in his eyes, and she went on without thinking.

"You..._feel_ different." It came out sounding awed. Hermione noticed, as if in slow motion, how his eyes widened slightly, and how a lump of mortification formed in her stomach. She tore her gaze to the floor. "I mean..." Her cheeks were burning.

"Than Moody? Of _course_." Snape's voice was clipped, faster. She couldn't help but look up. His bemused look was gone, replaced with narrowed, disdainful eyes.

Humiliation welled up. The space between them was alive with it.

Hermione clenched her jaw, and stared at his chest instead, wishing away the dark blush on her cheeks. Even in the somewhat low light, Snape couldn't possibly miss it.

_Why_? _Why_ did he have to _look_ at her like that? Like she'd done something horribly rude?

Yet part of her understood perfectly. She had been focusing on _Severus Snape_. Not on her memory- the _reason_ for the connection. Instead she had been captivated by the feel of...of _him_, on how _this_ was what she had imagined a psychic connection _should_ feel like...

Hermione had shown her full blown fascination with the experience, instead of, well, a mild academic interest. For someone like Snape, her overblown reaction was...it really _had_ been crossing a line.

His voice broke into her thoughts.

"We aren't_ finished_, Miss Granger." Hermione looked up, unprepared and wide eyed, just in time to catch Snape's look: it was cold, detached. He stepped forward, hand coming up to her face again. His voice had a sarcastic edge to it.

"Don't worry, you won't _feel_ nearly as much this time..." His eyes focused in on hers, clinically, and his voice softened as he concentrated. "A _surface_ level look, only..."

Hermione stared back, jaw clenching in panic. She didn't know how to behave, what to focus on! And she didn't want him looking into her thoughts just yet...!

This time, when she felt the push of his magic, she shied away.

_Focus, focus, focus..._

Hermione heard him sigh, saw him quirk an eyebrow.

_Focus..._

She only jumped when he spoke quietly. There was an edge of aggravation to his voice. "Miss _Granger_. Kindly remove the water drop from your consciousness."

Hermione did a double take.

_I'm such an idiot! _

The visualization exercise she used for concentration...she had been focusing on _that_- on the bloody drop of _water_! She had effectively been pushing Snape back with all her might...

Hermione vehemently forced down her mortification, _determined_ to prove she wasn't a complete dimwit and could actually concentrate on the _goal_...

By _relaxing_.

It was infinitely harder this time, but slowly, _slowly_ Hermione managed to let go, and gently bring forward her conversation with Moody again...

Almost as soon as she did, Snape moved- and suddenly they were watching Hermione's conversation with Moody play back.

Snape had been right. This time his presence was hardly noticeable. And the memory was straight forward; no emotions, no total immersion. It was more like watching a movie.

Before long the conversation had played out, and then Hermione was aware of Snape standing in front of her again, already turning, as she got her bearings, to walk toward his chair. After a moment she stepped back, slowly sinking down to sit too.

Hermione felt tired- as though _letting_ someone inside her head was even _more_ difficult than pushing them out. Or maybe all the new experiences she'd just had were fatiguing in and of themselves. Or maybe (she grimaced) it was all the emotional ups and downs.

At least she felt calmer now. The embarrassment was mostly gone. Instead, strangely, she felt a subtle happiness. Tonight, a new world of understanding had opened up for her.

She couldn't think of that...intriguing presence in her mind. Not when she sat across from said presence, who didn't appreciate the attention in the least. But even when she put that aside, Hermione knew that she had probably learned more about Occlumency tonight than in all her other lessons put _together_.

And it hadn't even been instructional. Snape had been focused on information- and on getting it without causing her unnecessary harm along the way.

Hermione was only now beginning to grasp just how skilled Snape _was_ at this. There were things he'd done with her memories...she'd been lost in her own head! And he had been so careful! He had _never_ pushed his way in. Hermione knew...she _knew_, if he had wanted to, he could have ripped through that silly water drop...

Hermione felt eyes on her and looked up, into Snape's glittering, inscrutable gaze. Always such a mystery! She smiled lopsidedly at the thought, inwardly laughing at her own ignorance. Tonight, she had been given a sense of perspective about her Occlumency training.

Part of her wondered if that hadn't been his goal.

Well, now she understood. She was like a toddler who, for the first time, got to see a grown-up running.

Hermione's smile turned to a smirk. "I have got a lot to learn, don't I, professor?"

Severus Snape just smirked back at her.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Nope, I'm not dead. Yaaaaay. I'd make promises about updating this regularly, but that might cause someone to die from laughter. If you're wondering, the exciting night at Hogwarts has not quite concluded. :)


End file.
